


He Did Ballet

by kaleidoscopeminds



Series: ballet fic [1]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Boy Calum Hood, Ballet Dancer Luke Hemmings, Bartender Calum Hood, Drinking, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Sort Of, Strangers to Lovers, ballet content based on my 12 years of training as a child, but he's also in a band, but not heavy angst because i am terrible at writing it, i may add to these tags as I go, inaccuracies with what happens in the Royal Ballet, that's a sexy tag, you read that correctly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:34:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 34,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27384262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaleidoscopeminds/pseuds/kaleidoscopeminds
Summary: Like the way he danced, everything in Luke's life was perfectly placed, an allegro exercise all on beat, an enchainment with no mistakes. The last thing he needed was a distraction, something to pull his attention away and make him stumble, like losing your spot during a series of fouettés. He glances back towards the bar and sees Calum still looking in his direction. Luke catches his eye again by mistake for just a second too long and Calum smiles slowly and winks at him. Luke shivers slightly and already feels slightly unbalanced. Calum is definitely not a good idea.Luke's life is perfectly on track. He is about to get everything he's ever wanted, to become a Principal dancer for the Royal Ballet. He's focused, determined and nothing will get in his way. Then he meets Calum, a smooth-tongued barman with dangerous eyes, and suddenly not everything's so simple.
Relationships: Luke Hemmings/Calum Hood, Michael Clifford/Ashton Irwin (background)
Series: ballet fic [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2083281
Comments: 43
Kudos: 78





	1. can I make it any more obvious?

**Author's Note:**

> hello!! This has been on my mind for a while, I wanted to write some ballet!luke because of... reasons, and then Elle made [this](https://calmfolklore.tumblr.com/post/631814056392720384) gif set and that was it, it had to happen. This is my first chaptered fic, it is not all written but it is planned out so I have faith in myself to finish it.
> 
> Current tags based on what I have planned although I will add and change if the content does! Rated mature for swearing, some mature themes and sexual content although it will be non-explicit. Maybe I will upload this on a schedule? We will see.
> 
> Please enjoy! Title from Sk8r Boi by Avril Lavigne (obviously)

Luke looks at himself in the wall of glass mirrors as he stretches, lengthening his sweat-pant covered legs out in a straddle and leaning his body forward to lay his torso flat on the wooden floor. He holds the position, feeling the familiar and almost welcome burning stretch along his hamstrings contrasting with the cold wooden floor underneath him, and exhales for fifteen seconds. He drops his head between his arms, reaching a little bit further and feels the strain a little bit more, his muscles screaming at him as he pushes past the point of comfort.

Michael always calls the ballet dancers of the Royal Ballet masochists, and Luke can’t help but think there might be some truth in that. He wouldn’t say he loves pain, more that it means that he’s working, achieving, improving. Every ballet dancer has to like pain a little, endless days, hour after hour pushing your body to the absolute limit just to make the way it moves in the most unnatural ways look effortless. Blood, sweat and tears and more blood for two hours of looking elegant and weightless under bright lights and a mainly clueless audience. It takes a huge and possibly stupid amount of dedication, commitment in droves, and Luke knows he has both. 

There’s nothing that Luke had ever wanted to do more than dance. His Mum sent him to dance lessons at age five, mainly just to get him out of her hair so she could clean the house, and to everyone’s surprise he had taken to it like a duck to water. A small boy in a room of girls in tutus, already hyper-focused on emulating the simple movements the teacher demonstrated correctly. Ever since then he’d lived and breathed ballet. Impervious to the comments of the other boys around him who played football or swam, he would spend his afternoon’s when he wasn’t at class dancing in the park, on the drive, in the street. Where most children’s hobbies would peter out as they became a teenager, interest waning in favour of more exciting things, Luke’s passion for dance had only increased. As he grew, limbs getting impossibly long and head reaching closer to the top of the door frames, so had his ambition.

He’d moved to London at sixteen on his own on a scholarship for the Royal Ballet School that no one but him believed he could get. Said goodbye to his parents and older brothers and started a new life in a new country with nothing but his grandmother's spare suitcase and ambition like nothing else to be better, to be greater. He’d breezed through his two years of dance lessons, the most difficult part of his teenage years being the A-Levels that it was mandatory that the Royal Ballet School students take. But he’d managed it, he’d graduated straight into becoming an artist in the Royal Ballet, never a question that Golden Boy Luke would be given a role in the company, the jewel in his cohort for most of the trainers and choreographers. He’d moved fast then, each year being promoted up through first artist, soloist, first soloist, and now he was twenty-two and staring down the barrel of being one of the youngest ever dancers to become a Principal dancer. 

He takes a deep breath and stretches his body over his right leg, checking in the mirror that he’s keeping his spine straight even though he doesn’t need to, he can feel exactly what his body is doing. Luke is never out of control of his own body, long past the days of gangly limbs getting in his way, everything he does is perfectly placed with absolute finesse, each step flawlessly positioned with appropriate turn out, each leap the ideal height with toes extended, and every arm position accurate every time. That’s how Luke performed, that's how he’d got to this point and that’s how he would reach the final step, his ultimate goal. Principal dancer of the Royal Ballet. 

He trucks a stray curl behind his ear, a piece of hair that would resolutely escape from the low bun that Luke pulled his hair into for practice, and stretches along the other leg, trying to empty his noisy head and keep the echoing voice of the guest choreographer they’d had in for workshop that day from ringing in his ears.

“Excellent technique,” she murmured, watching Luke when it had been his pair’s turn to perform the pas de deux. “Perfect lines, exquisite extension.”

Luke preened under the praise as usual, as the rest of his class rolled their eyes fondly, used to the compliments that were loaded onto Luke by whomever watched him dance.

“But,” She paused, and Luke frowned a little before smoothing his face out again, preparing himself for some constructive criticism, even though he received it infrequently. “Do you know how to feel?”

There was a beat. “I’m sorry I’m not sure what you mean,” Luke said politely, genuinely not understanding her point. “Do you mean my musicality was off?” 

“No your musicality was beautiful, lovely and dynamic phrasing of movement.” She got up and walked towards him a little and the rest of the class fell silent. “But can you really feel it? Do you feel the emotion running through your veins, the passion stretching out your muscles, the desperation clinging to your bones. Do you feel the intensity and soul flow through your movement, the anguish escaping through your skin? Do you know how to feel when you dance?”

Luke was silent, it was not something he’d ever been asked before, dancing was dancing to him like breathing was breathing. He shrugged a little at the choreographer, bemused by her impassioned words.

“Think about it,” she said with a slight smile. “Or try to feel it maybe.” 

She dismissed him and his partner with a jerk of her head, beckoning the next pair into the centre of the studio. 

Luke mulled over her words as he sat back down against the wall at the back of the studio. He mulled it over through the rest of the class, body moving out of muscle memory more than anything else. He mulled it over as everyone had left and he’d stayed “just to stretch for a bit”, as the choreographer had approached him again, bag on her shoulder and trainers on.

“Luke is it?” She asked.

Luke nodded warily as he pulled on his sweatpants over his shorts.

“You really are a wonderful dancer,” She said, smiling at him. “But think about what I said.

Luke stayed quiet again and she nodded at him before walking towards the door.

“Everyone can always be a little bit better no matter how good they are!” She called back as she left the room. “Remember what it means to you, Luke. Feel what it means to you and you could be something really special.”

And with that she had gone. Luke shook his head at himself in the mirror and continued with his stretching, vowing not to let her words affect him.

**⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒**

He was letting her words affect him.

He was lying on the sofa, drinking tea and eating toast instead of his previously planned dinner of chicken, rice and vegetables, and watching reality TV instead of doing laundry which was what was normally on Thursday’s agenda.

“What’s up with you?” Michael asks, appearing from the kitchen with his glasses on. He looked at Luke confused, Luke knew it was because he normally only watched TV on a Sunday when he had no classes, saying that he preferred to spend his evenings in a more productive way.

Michael frowns for a second before coming into the room fully, throwing himself onto the sofa directly onto Luke’s feet.

“Michael, stop,” Luke whines, pulling his feet out from underneath Michael and dumping them in his lap instead.

“Sorry sorry, I know, not the precious appendages,” He laughs, patting Luke’s socked feet carefully. “How was your day?”

“Fine,” Luke replies morosely, staring into his tea like it’s going to give him all the answers. “I’m fine.”

“I feel like you’re not because you’ve put _Dance Moms_ on.”

“My television preferences have nothing to do with my mood.”

“Now that’s just fucking not true,” Michael says, flicking Luke’s foot.

“Can we leave my feet out of this?” Luke says petulantly, stretching his legs out further to stuff his feet under a cushion on the far side of the sofa.

“You know, I think you might be the only man in England that cares more about your feet than you care about your dick.” Michael muses. 

“Mikey!” Luke blushes and swats at his shoulder.

“What it’s true! When’s the last time you had sex?” Michael asks with a sly smile.

“I’m not talking about this with you,” Luke says grumpily. “It's none of your business. I don’t have time for relationships, they’re distracting.”

“I’m not talking about a relationship, Luke,” Michael responds, rolling his eyes. “I’m talking about a good fucking. You know. To release tension.”

“Shut up. I have plenty of sex,” Luke lies through his teeth, turning even redder. 

“When’s the last time you had sex then?” Michael asks, challenging.

Luke is about to retort when he starts to work it out for himself. The last time had been with Joe and that was in October and it's only January now so it hadn’t been that long. Then he realises that it wasn’t last October that he’s remembering, it was the October before.

“Shit,” Luke groans. “Okay maybe it has been a while, but I don’t need to have sex, no one needs to have sex.” 

Michael just looks at him sceptically. "No one needs to have sex Luke, but I think you could do with it once in a while."

“I can’t, Michael. I’m this close to being a Principal I can taste it. Promotions are only a few months away and I need to focus.”

“You focus so hard I’m surprised you haven’t burst into flames,” Michael says fondly. He pauses for a moment with a contemplative frown which Luke doesn’t really like the look of. “I think we should go out for drinks tonight.”

“Were you not listening to what I literally just said?” Luke exclaims haughtily.

“I was, which is why we should go for a drink,” Michael says firmly.

“I’m not supposed to drink, especially not on a weekday,” Luke protests.

“Oh don’t give me that excuse. We’ll only go for one or two, and I know you don’t have a class until 11am tomorrow, I checked the fridge.” 

Luke huffs at the thought of wrestling his aching limbs into something more suitable for a bar and dragging himself outdoors after 9pm, but he knows what Michael is like, and knows he won’t get anywhere persuading him otherwise.

“Fine,” Luke glares. “But I’m going to hate every second of it.”

“That’s the spirit,” Michael says, throwing Luke’s feet off him and onto the ground, before grabbing his wrist and pulling him upright. “You never know, you might find a nice man with a foot fetish.”

“I have to take care of my feet Michael, it doesn’t mean I want a man with a foot fetish!” Luke shouts after Michael as the other man exits the living room swiftly.

“Be ready in twenty minutes!” Michael replies from the other room. “And put something nice on!”

**⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒**

Luke is not happy. Apparently it wasn’t enough that Michael had dragged him out, but also he wasn’t allowed to go to his favourite quiet pub on the corner of the road where their flat was, but Michael had to drag him at least two streets further on to a different pub that Luke had never been to.

He sits grumpily in the booth, watching Michael get them drinks and flirt outrageously with one of the barmen, music obnoxiously loud. He watches Michael take out his phone and hand it to the barman before sauntering back over after an unreasonable amount of time, sliding Luke’s beer towards him and throwing himself onto the bench opposite.

“Having fun yet?” Michael asks, smirking.

“No,” Luke snaps back, taking a long drink from his beer.

“Keep drinking, maybe that will help,” Michael says over the rim of his own glass.

“You seemed to be having a nice time at the bar,” Luke says snidely, taking another large gulp, because Michael is right, the beer probably will help.

“What can I say,” Michael says, a grin stretching wide on his face. “He was really cute. If there’s a person to be flirted with then I’m the guy who will do the flirting.”

“That makes no fucking sense,” Luke grumbles, taking another sip and realising with a start that he’s got through half his pint in a few gulps. He sets his glass down.

“See anyone you like the look of?” Michael asks, wiggling his eyebrow at Luke and casting his eyes around the pub.

“I told you, I’m not interested,” Luke snaps, with more heat than is probably justified.

“Right, what is up with you today,” Michael says seriously, turning his body to face Luke properly. “First of all _Dance Moms_ and now you’re being especially bitchy. I know something’s bothering you.

Luke sighs and drops his chin into his hands. “It’s nothing.”

“Fuck off is it nothing,” Michael says, rolling his eyes. “Out with it.”

Luke pauses for a second, it sounds stupid in his head which means its going to sound even stupider out loud, but Michael was used to dealing with his stupid irrational thoughts. He’d been his friend since his first year with a role, the lighting tech for his first Ballet at the Opera House. Luke had complained up at the booth during a tech rehearsal that he was being left in the dark deliberately, and Michael had snarked at him that he was only in the dark because he couldn’t hit his marks correctly. Their friendship had grown from there and they’d been flatmates for the last two years. Neither of them had many other friends apart from the other nerds in the technical team and the odd dancer, but they had each other and Luke knew despite their friendship being made of exclusively snarky remarks and take-downs that Michael was the best friend he’d ever had. He'd also talked him down from a fair few crises in the past few years. Luke picks up his glass again and takes a sip before beginning.

“If I ask you something will you be completely honest with me?” He says hesitantly. 

“Go ahead,” Michael says. “Brutal honesty is my forte.”

Luke shakes his head and smiles slightly, that he knows to be true. He bites his lip and pauses slightly.

“Do you think I’m emotionally repressed?” He asks quietly.

Michael bursts out laughing, almost spitting his beer everywhere, howling so loud the people on the table next to them turn to glare.

“Michael,” Luke whines. “I’m serious here.”

“I’m sorry,” Michael giggles, hiccupping slightly.

You want me to be completely honest?”

Luke just nods silently.

“Luke, I’m sorry, but you’re one of the most emotionally repressed people I’ve ever met.” Michael says with an apologetic smile.

“Fuck off,” Luke groans. “You’re meant to be my friend.”

“Luke you know I think you’re an amazing dancer, probably the best I’ve ever seen and I’ve been teching at the Royal Opera House for four years.” Michael says seriously. “But when it comes to emotional intelligence and understanding yourself? It's not one of your many talents, babe.”

Luke sighs and glares at Michael, but he can’t refute what he’s saying. It wasn’t that Luke didn’t want to be more in touch with his emotional side, it was that he doesn’t have time to when he’s got other things to focus on. How was he supposed to be the best he could be if he was concentrating on how he _felt_ all the time. He didn't do feeling, he did dancing instead.

“What’s all this about, Luke?” Michael asks. 

“We had a guest choreographer today and she got us to perform her pas de deux in our pairs for her then gave specific feedback,” Luke starts.

“What and she didn’t give you good feedback?” Michael scoffs. “I find that hard to believe. I haven’t dealt with a single choreographer that hasn’t thought the sun hasn’t shone out of your ridiculously perky arse.”

Luke kicks Michael under the table and pretends to frown. “Stop flirting with me and listen to what I’m saying.”

“I’m not flirting, that’s a fact!” Michael protests, holding his hands up. “It’s not my fault you spend all your time prancing about in tights and tiny shorts. I’m a man who appreciates a good arse, and you, Luke Hemmings have a good arse.”

Luke blushes, it's not the first time he’s heard compliments about his body, and not the first time he’s heard them from Michael either, the other man’s perpetual flirting resulting in frequent comments about Luke’s thighs or biceps or chest. It will never make him not blush though, years of ballet training changing his body in ways he knew were appealing, but not changing his own perception of himself.

“Well anyway,” Luke continues, changing the subject. “She didn’t not give me good feedback, she just said something else.”

“What?” Michael prompts as Luke tails off.

“She asked me if I knew how to feel,” Luke says plainly and takes another drink.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Michael says.

“That’s my fucking point!” Luke bursts out. “What am I supposed to do with that?”

“Sounds like she’s nuts, mate,” Michael says, shaking his head. “I would ignore it.”

“But what if she has a point? What if I don’t know how to feel? You said I’m emotionally repressed! What if that is the reason I don’t get Principal?" Luke says, voicing the worries that have been trying to escape since the comment was made to him earlier that day.

“Luke, come on,” Michael says. “You are literally the most talented dancer the Royal Ballet has ever had, every choreographer loves you, every trainer loves you. Your emotional issues are not going to stop you getting Principal. Do not let this woman get in your head.”

“Too late,” Luke says gloomily and finishes the rest of his pint in a single gulp. “I’m going to get another drink.” 

He slides out of the booth and starts walking towards the bar.

“Same again please!” he hears Michael call. “And we’re not done talking about this!”

He waves his hand without turning around to let him know that he’s heard. 

When he gets to the bar he stands and waits to be served, moodily refreshing Instagram on his phone. 

“What can I get you?” A deep voice interrupts his sulking and startles him slightly

Luke looks up and nearly drops his phone onto the bar as he sees a different barman to the one Michael was flirting with earlier smirking at him and waiting to take his order. He’s also quite possibly the fittest man Luke’s ever seen. He’s tall, not quite as tall as Luke but that’s no one really is; with tanned skin and obviously bleached hair shaved close to his head. His eyes are deep brown and sparkling and he’s got the prettiest full pink lips that Luke’s ever seen. The black T-shirt he's got on fits very nicely to his broad chest and is straining at the sleeves around his arms, which themselves are particularly attractive, biceps running into strong looking veiny forearms and and into huge hands, long fingers wrapped around a pint glass he’s sliding into place underneath the bar. Luke then notices the tattoos, peeking out the dipped neckline of his shirt, and wrapping around his arms right down to what Luke assumes are initials inscribed on those lovely hands. He looks vaguely dangerous and like he could be bad news, and Luke hates how that sends a flash of heat through his body. The man pulls up the corner of his mouth slightly as he watches Luke and coughs slightly.

“You okay there, mate?” He says quietly with a grin.

Luke realises with a start that the man has an Australian accent to boot and also that he’s now checking Luke out unabashedly, eyes running over his grey T-shirt and black jeans, and Luke all of a sudden wishes he’d heeded Michael’s advice and worn something nicer.

“Uh, yeah,” Luke says unhelpfully before remembering why he's even at the bar in the first place. “Could I get two pints of the Camden Hells, please?”

“Is that all I can get you?” The man winks at Luke.

Luke blushes red but frowns. “Yes thank you,” he says stiffly, trying not to make eye contact.

The man laughs, and his teeth flash in the lights. “Coming right up, pretty boy.”

Luke turns even redder and huffs out his nose, yes, definitely bad news. The man pulls two pints without looking, keeping his eyes on Luke the whole time, flicking his eyes across his chest, down his legs and back up to his face. Luke tries not to let it affect him, tries not to fidget under the heat of the stare from the other man. He knows he should probably feel disgusted by how obviously this guy is checking him out, but he can’t help the way a different feeling settles warm and heavy in his stomach at the appreciative look he’s being given.

“Maybe you should take a picture,” Luke bites out, as the seconds stretch longer with the man looking at him.

“Maybe I just like looking at pretty things,” the barman says, deep and even. He slides the drinks across the bar towards Luke. “But I'm happy to take a picture if that’s what you’re into.”

Luke's not sure if it's even possible for his face to go redder at this point but he knows it's trying to and he busies himself with getting his wallet out of his pocket. “You don’t have any idea what I’m into.”

“Well maybe I’d like to find out,” The man says, smirking slightly and holding out the card machine. “Over drinks?”

“No thanks,” Luke said firmly, tapping his card on the machine. Yeah he was unreasonably attracted to this guy but he wasn’t out of his mind.

The man just continued to smile, not perturbed in the slightest at Luke’s rejection. “We’ll see.”

“I’m going now,” Luke said unnecessarily, picking up his drinks and turning around. He hears the man make an appreciative noise and he knows without checking that the man is now looking at his arse. 

“I’m Calum by the way,” He hears from behind him. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“Don’t count on it!” Luke calls back, not turning around and definitely not giving his own name.

He puts the drinks on the table and then slides in next to Michael. Michael’s looking at him with raised eyebrows.

“He was flirting with you! What was I saying earlier Luke?” He berates him, “That was a prime opportunity to take for a quick fuck!”

“Shush,” Luke hisses at Michael. “He’ll hear you!”

Michael ignores him. “Come on, Luke! You can’t ignore opportunities like that when they present themselves to you. Especially in the form of sexy bar tenders.” 

“Sleeping with a crude barman is not a good idea, no matter how sexy he is.” Luke says resolutely. 

Michael grumbles opposite him but Luke stops listening. Like the way he danced, everything in Luke's life was perfectly placed, an allegro exercise all on beat, an enchainment with no mistakes. The last thing he needed was a distraction, something to pull his attention away and make him stumble, like losing your spot during a series of fouettés. He glances back towards the bar and sees Calum still looking in his direction. Luke catches his eye again by mistake for just a second too long and Calum smiles slowly and winks at him. Luke shivers slightly and already feels slightly unbalanced. Calum is definitely not a good idea.


	2. see you later boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It turns out that fate has a slightly different plan for him though, as when he exits the café he almost walks straight into Calum and unlike the first time, this time he actually does drop what he’s holding. Namely, the cup of tea that he’s just bought.
> 
> “Fuck me,” Luke groans as hot tea splashes over his feet, soaking through his blue Converse immediately.
> 
> “Not necessarily the reaction I was expecting, but we can do that if you want,” Calum says, smirking at him from where he’s leaned up against the window of the café.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi i am back!!! we are attempting a wednesday upload how long this will last i do not know but for now we are moving and grooving! Apologies for any terminology inaccuracies in this one the french language and their use of accents truly plague me!!!

“Okay we go _chassé_ , _pas de bourrée,_ big _jété développé._ Now left and right, _pas couru_ , _grand jété._ Prepare and go, _fouettée sauté, pas de_ _bourrée_ , and out you go!” 

Luke walks through the steps quickly as Olga, the guest teacher for their morning class, says them, he knows she will only say it once with a vague demonstration before they will be expected to immediately emulate it with the accompaniment of the pianist. Luke loves the morning class, it always puts him in the perfect mood for the rest of the day, starting slow with sedate barre work before working up to turns and jumps and finally a series of _enchaînement_ in the centre. This part, stringing a series of words together and producing perfect movements out of it, translating the half French into beautiful motions on demand is one of his favourites. It’s mentally challenging and Luke loves the effort it takes to get it perfect the first time, the way it empties his brain of anything else but complete focus on getting his body to move on demand. The music starts and they’re counted in, and Luke performs the steps with precision.

“Here we go! And two and three and a! Lift your head, Marcus! Seven, eight! Alaina don’t have lazy feet! And three, and four and straight onto the left please, begin! Up! And three! And stretch those fingers! And six! Good extension Luke! Two! And other arm Ellen! Seven and finish!”

The class pauses, catching their breath and shaking their limbs out.

“Fortunately for you, we’re out of time. That’s it for today, I will see you all next week!” Olga claps her hands together with a smile and the class breaks out into polite applause and murmurs of thanks. 

Luke goes to pull his sweatpants on and stretch out a little, pleased that he'll have time to head out and get his morning cup of tea before the start of his next class. He quickly moves through his stretches but doesn’t worry too much as he’ll be kept warm by walking to the café, before lacing his shoes, pulling on his hoodie and headphones, and heading out with his bag on his shoulder, waving goodbye at some of the lingering dancers.

Luke blinks in the February sun and pulls his hood up over his headphones as he wanders towards his favourite café just around the corner from the Opera House and the Ballet School. He runs through steps in his head on the walk, something that he had picked up since he moved to London, measuring the distances between places in series of steps or variations. He makes it to the café in precisely the length of the second act _pas de deux_ of _La Bayadère_ , and goes in to order his tea, smiling familiarly at the barista whilst doing small calf raises while he waits to stay warm. 

Unfortunately, in the quiet café with no more steps running through his head, his mind starts to wander and ends up where it had more often than not in the past few days, on the dangerous looking barman from the pub last week. Luke sighs and shakes his head as if he can physically shake the image of Calum’s glinting eyes (and huge arms) out of there, he’s not sure why Calum had seemingly taken up permanent residence in his head but it was the exact reason why he hadn't want to get involved with him in the first place. He can't afford to be constantly distracted and it was starting to really piss him off. It's not like he’s going to see the man ever again, he tells himself, and not like he even wants to. 

It turns out that fate has a slightly different plan for him though, as when he exits the café he almost walks straight into Calum and, unlike the first time, this time he actually does drop what he’s holding. Namely, the cup of tea that he’s just bought.

“Fuck me,” Luke groans as hot tea splashes over his feet, soaking through his blue Converse immediately.

“Not necessarily the reaction I was expecting, but we can do that if you want,” Calum says, smirking at him from where he’s leaned up against the window of the café.

He looks even fitter than he did last time, Luke can see his skin-tight black jeans tucked into black boots and his broad shoulders covered in an oversized leather biker jacket. His eyes are the same deep swirling brown, lighter flecks brought out by the winter sunshine and bleached hair glowing.

“What are you doing here,” Luke asks, flustered, realising that again he’s been staring at Calum for too long. He crouches down to pick up his now empty cup and tries to wipe off his shoes, using the excuse to cover his face which he’s sure has gone its customary shade of scarlet at Calum’s surprise arrival.

“That’s not a very nice way to greet someone, Luke,” Calum says, and his voice and accent are, unfortunately, even sexier than his brain had recalled. “How about, ‘hi Calum how you going?’”

Luke looks up at him suspiciously and Calum is still smirking at him, but has a wad of tissues in his hand which he’s offering to Luke. 

“How do you know my name,” Luke says warily, frowning as he gets back to his feet.

“I have my sources,” Calum just says, raising his eyebrows at him. Luke waits for him to expand, but he just stays looking at Luke, being infuriatingly vague. He pauses as Luke glares at him. “Are you waiting for me to wipe your shoes for you? Because I could be persuaded to do that for a pretty boy like you.” 

“Shut up,” Luke snaps, grabbing the tissues out of Calum’s hands and bending over again to dab at his shoes, fairly ineffectively. He straightens up again and hears Calum make a slightly disappointed noise. He looks at him questioningly.

“Sorry, I was quite enjoying the sight of you bent over,” Calum says with one of his trademark winks.

Luke almost chokes on his own spit. “What the fuck?” He splutters.

“Do you want to go for a coffee?” Calum asks, smirking. “I think you might need another.”

“I’m fine thanks,” Luke replies icily, shoulders his kit bag and turns away from Calum. 

“Maybe next time then, Pretty Boy!” Calum calls as he walks away. “Enjoy dancing today, Luke!”

Luke ignores him and stamps back to the Opera House for rehearsal, with no tea and wet feet. He grumbles to himself as he digs around in his bag to find clean socks to rehearse in, ignoring the other dancers looking at him warily as he rips off his sopping socks.

He stews in anger all the way through rehearsal, his good mood from earlier in the day completely vanishing at the sight of Calum. Luckily the steps for this piece are already second nature, but he gets called out for the scowl on his face which stays all throughout his jump sequence. The choreographer at one point tells him he’s never seen a _grand jeté_ performed with quite such a furious facial expression, and it only gets worse when he then makes a comment on how it’s the most feeling Luke’s ever shown during his dancing. He could really do without anyone mentioning the word “feel” ever again.

On his way home later he tells himself that he’s angry at Calum for being obnoxious and crass, but if he’s honest he’s angry at himself and the fact that he’s unable to get the smug fucker out of his head for more than fifteen minutes, and is seemingly also incapable of telling him to fuck off. The fact that this means he might actually like the idea of Calum flirting with him is a thought that he finds particularly hard to swallow.

He slams through the door of the flat at 7 pm that night after a long day of rehearsals, with a stress headache from frowning so much and a desire to sleep for a hundred years. He sees Michael on the sofa and flops down next to him.

“Oh Jesus Christ, what now?” Michael says warily, after watching Luke’s impassioned arrival.

“That Calum from the pub last week showed up outside the Poetry Café today,” Luke whines. “He was being obnoxious as usual.”

“So?” Michael asks, “He’s fit and he’s into you, it's not necessarily a bad thing.”

Luke ignores this comment, they’ve been over this several times already.

“He knew my name, Mikey,” Luke says. “And why was he outside the Poetry Café?”

Luke watches Michael mumble something incoherently and nervously fiddle with his fringe. Luke is immediately suspicious.

“How did he know my name, Michael?” Luke says slowly, narrowing his eyes.

“Uh, well,” Michael gets out, avoiding eye contact with Luke.

“Michael,” Luke says warningly.

“Okay, so you know that I’ve been out with a guy a couple of times in the last week?” He starts nervously,

Luke just nods at him, failing to see how that has anything to do with Calum.

“Well I might have told him a bit about you and he might be the other barman from that night and he might live with Calum.” Michael squeaks out in a rush.

“Are you fucking joking me?” Luke exclaims. “What the fuck, Michael?”

“It was an accident!” Michael says earnestly. “Ashton was just asking about who I lived with and so I told him! I didn’t know he lived with Calum, I didn’t even know they were friends. It was only when—”

“When you fucked him and stayed at his on Friday?” Luke asks with a stony look on his face.

Michael winces slightly but nods.

“And I suppose you had a lovely time telling Calum everything about me and what I do and where I work?” Luke’s voice increases in volume. He knows he’s getting unreasonably upset about this but he can’t help it, the idea that Michael spoke to Calum about him without him knowing makes him so irritated, he can feel the rage dancing up inside his chest.

“No, Luke I—”

Luke ploughs on as if Michael hasn’t spoken. “And I suppose you really enjoyed telling him where to find me and how emotionally repressed I am and how I need a good fucking?” Luke feels like he might be shouting, a fact that takes even him by surprise.

“Luke stop!” Michael exclaims. “Of course not! It wasn’t like that! I didn't even speak to Calum!”

“Tell me what it was like then Michael because I am this close to actually losing it,” Luke threatens, gritting his teeth.

“Look, you know I’m chatty when I’m relaxed, and I was relaxed!” Michael says beseechingly.

“Yes, I’m sure him sticking his dick in you made you really relaxed,” Luke says flatly.

“God, I hate it when you get like this, give me a minute to explain,” Michael says, pushing his fringe out of his face.

“When I get like this?” Luke yelps, standing up from the sofa. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Give. Me. A second!” Michael says, grabbing Luke’s wrist and dragging him down next to him. Once he’s on the sofa Michael puts his legs on top of him so he can’t go anywhere. Luke throws him a furious look from where he’s pinned down.

“I didn’t tell Ashton everything about you, and I didn’t even see Calum really just in passing,” Michael starts, moving his hand from gripping Luke’s wrist to lacing their fingers together, holding Luke’s hand tightly as if to ground himself and Luke.

“I like Ashton okay,” Michael sighs. “I like spending time with him and yes, I like fucking him.”

Luke rolls his eyes, he knows this, could have told Michael it himself by the way he’s been mooning around the place for the past week.

“Stop that,” Michael frowns. “He’s actually nice, and he’s interested in me and my life.”

Luke scoffs. “I’m sure he’s very interested in you Michael, interested in you and your arsehole.” 

“Jesus, Luke. Can you be less of a bitch for five minutes please,” Michael says rolling his eyes and squeezing Luke’s hand, hard. Luke glares at him but doesn’t say anything else.

“He actually asks questions about what I do and stuff, and obviously I can’t talk about my life without mentioning you,” Michael looks at Luke shrewdly. “I barely have a memory from the past three years that you’re not in.”

“Don’t be sweet and nostalgic, I’m angry at you,” Luke says irritably.

“It’s true!” Michael protests. “Look, Ashton asked and I told him how we met and that you were in the Royal Ballet. And then he laughed and said that he couldn’t wait to tell Calum.” 

Michael pauses. Luke looks at him but Michael just looks back.

“Michael,” Luke says.

“Yes, Luke?” Michael says innocently.

Luke sighs. “Don’t make me say it.”

“Say what?” Michael says with a glint in his eye.

Luke wants to stamp his foot, but he knows he won’t get his way on this, he’ll have to bend to Michael’s will if he ever wants to find out.

“Why couldn’t he wait to tell Calum?” Luke says reluctantly.

“Oh so now you want to hear what I have to say?” Michael says.

“Oh fuck off, yes I want to hear,” Luke snaps.

Luckily Michael decides to put him out of his misery, flashes him a quick grin and squeezes his hand again before continuing.

“Well he said, and I quote, ‘Calum already won’t shut up about that blonde guy from the pub, he’ll lose his shit when he finds out he’s a ballet dancer’,” Michael says with a sly smile.

Luke blushes and Michael looks at him knowingly. “I thought you decided Calum was a bad idea?”

“I did. He is,” Luke insists.

“So you won’t want to know anything more about him then?” 

Luke frowns. Michael will never let him live this down.

“That’s not what I said,” Luke says slowly.

Michael smiles smugly. “Well if you were interested, he’s in London with Ashton because they’re in a band and they’re trying to get signed. He’s a bassist.”

Luke’s mouth drops open in what he assumes is a fairly comical way. 

“And he sings,” Michael adds.

Luke continues to just gape, his mind supplying images of Calum in his leather jacket, fronting a band and feels like his mouth might start watering.

“Forgiven me yet?” Michael smirks.

“No,” Luke says childishly.

“Gonna fuck Calum yet?” Michael’s smirk grows wider. "I haven't seen you this worked up about anything in years."

“No, you prick,” Luke whines. “Now let me up.”

“What so you can go wank off to the thought of sexy barman Calum playing the bass?” 

“Shut up,” Luke's had enough of this, and forcibly removes Michael, using his strength from lifting tall women for hours on end to dump the other man on the floor by his feet. 

Michael squeaks in protest as he hits the floor. Luke smiles smugly, placated slightly by the sight of Michael fuming on the ground and gets up to leave.

“Oh, what does Ashton do in the band?” Luke asks as he leaves the room.

“Drummer,” Michael grumbles from the floor, blushing.

“Mm I bet you like that,” Luke says. “Let me guess, you made a terrible joke about how you can give him something else to bang.”

“Fuck off.”

Luke just laughs.

**⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒**

He sees Calum again the week after, but this time as he arrives at the café. Calum has on platform Dr Martens and ripped blue jeans, with what looks like a long sleeve black T-shirt layered underneath his trademark leather jacket. Luke tries to be annoyed, but unfortunately, his talk with Michael has only made him more interested in the other man.

“Am I going to have to find a new place to get tea?” Luke asks grumpily as he approaches.

Calum smirks at him again, holding out the cup in his hand towards Luke. Luke is momentarily distracted by the hands wrapping around the cup, thinking what they would look like wrapped around the fret of a bass, or maybe wrapped around something else. He tells himself to focus.

“What’s that for?” Luke asks suspiciously.

“It’s for you to drink, Pretty Boy,” Calum says.

“Have you drugged it?”

That breaks Calum out of his permanent smirk as he huffs out a surprised laugh.

“No, Luke,” I haven’t drugged it, I’m not a criminal.”

“Can never be too careful,” Luke says haughtily. “What did you get me then?”

“English breakfast tea with milk, no sugar,” Calum says promptly. “I heard you’re Australian but I think you’re full British now with an order like that.”

“How did you know that?” Luke asks curiously.

“Might have heard it somewhere,” Calum says airily, avoiding his eyes

Luke rolls his eyes, “I know you’ve been gossiping about me with Ashton, and I know I can’t trust Michael to keep his big mouth shut after he’s opened his legs for someone.” 

Calum snorts and Luke knows he’s being bitchy, but feels like Michael might deserve it a little bit.

“I actually meant how did you know what drink to get me?” Luke continues.

“Asked the barista what you normally get,” Calum says shrugging. “Didn’t take much for them to know who I was talking about, you know; the stupidly tall, golden-haired gorgeous ballet dancer with the best arse in this hemisphere. She knew exactly who I meant.”

Luke blushes again, “You fucking did not.”

Calum laughs delightedly, tipping his head back, and Luke follows the line of his throat down into his T-shirt. “No I didn’t, they knew you by name.”

“I should think so,” Luke says loftily. 

“So, are you going to take this tea from me?” Calum asks, holding out the cup again. 

Luke begrudgingly takes the cup and takes a sip. He narrows his eyes and thinks for a moment, but it tastes like tea.

“You’re not going to taste the cyanide if I had poisoned it you know,” Calum says, resting against the wall.”

“That’s not making me think you’re less of a criminal,” Luke says, taking another sip, wrapping his hands around the cup. 

“I don’t know anything about you, you could be the criminal for all I know,” Calum says, raising his eyebrows.

“You’re the one that’s stalking me!” Luke says with a laugh. 

“Do you genuinely want me to leave you alone?” Calum asks seriously, dropping the smirk and looking surprisingly genuine. “I know I take the piss, but just say the word and I’ll fuck off.”

Luke wants to say yes, he does, but the thought of not seeing Calum again gives him an uncomfortable feeling deep in his stomach and he can’t seem to get the words out. The longer Luke pauses, struggling, the more Calum’s smirk starts to return, eyes glinting and mouth pulling up at the corners.

“Interesting,” Calum quips, flashing his teeth in a smile. “Guess you might be seeing a bit more of me then.”

Luke huffs at him but feels a small smile come to his face unwillingly, to which Calum’s grin only widens. 

“I still don’t want to go out with you,” Luke says petulantly. 

“We’ll see about that,” Calum says, unperturbed. 

“Stop saying that,” Luke says moodily, turning and beginning to walk away

“Enjoy dancing today, Pretty Boy!” Calum says.

“And stop saying that!” Luke calls over his shoulder.

Calum just laughs, giving him a salute and Luke shakes his head, although a smile escapes before he can turn back around completely.

**⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒**

Calum seemingly takes their last interaction as an invitation to start talking to Luke as much as possible. After that he starts seeing Calum most days he goes to the café; he seems to have picked up on Luke’s routine (a perpetual creature of habit) and is there after his morning classes on a Monday, Wednesday and Thursday. He always has a tea in hand for Luke, but it's not just at the café, he also starts appearing at the door to the Opera House when Luke leaves in the evening and in Clapham Common when he goes for his Sunday jogs, and even once walking along the river, although he thinks that time was genuinely by accident, if Calum’s equally surprised face is anything to go by.

Luke maintains that he still thinks Calum is obnoxious, taking any opportunity for comment on Luke’s body, but also has these strange moments of sweetness when he asks Luke how he is or what he’s up to and genuinely looks like he cares about the answer, or the way he always has his tea piping hot for him like he’s timed when to buy it perfectly for Luke’s arrival. He gets these tiny snapshots of the other man but he still feels like he doesn’t know anything about him at all, and maybe it's that which drives him to spontaneously say yes one of the repeated times he asks him out, on a drizzly Thursday morning outside the Poetry Café. 

“Well if you’ve got no plans later, maybe you should come for a drink with me?” Calum asks, leaning up against the wall of the café as the two of them sip their drinks.

“Okay,” Luke shrugs with a small smile, almost surprising himself.

Calum nearly chokes on his coffee, and Luke takes pride in making him lose his composure just a little.

“What is happening?” Calum says gleefully after coughing a few times. “Someone pinch me, I think I might be dreaming.” 

Luke reaches out and pinches him, hard, through the sleeve of his leather jacket.

“Not literally!” Calum protests. “Bloody hell you’ve got a fierce pinch for such delicate hands.” 

“Stronger than I look,” Luke says smugly, drinking his tea.

“Oh yeah? Tell me more,” Calum says, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Stop that or I’ll change my mind,” Luke says rolling his eyes.

Calum mimes zipping his lips and then smiles at him again.

“So? Drinks?” He says, with an uncharacteristically unsure look in his eyes.

Luke takes a deep breath, he’s not sure this is a good idea but he’s got this far, might as well go for it.

“Drinks,” He nods. “I’m probably going to regret this, but do you want my number so you can let me know when and where?”

Calum already has his phone out before Luke can even finish his sentence, and he hands it to Luke with a blazingly intense look in his eyes.

“Fuck, Ashton is not going to believe this,” Calum says, watching Luke input his number.

Luke hands the phone back and shakes his head at Calum.

“Pretty Boy Luke, hm?” Calum says, grinning, looking up from Luke’s number on his phone.

Luke blushes but doesn’t say anything.

“So maybe you like that nickname a bit more than you’d have me believe?” Calum teases with a raised eyebrow. “Filing that information away for later.”

Luke goes even redder. 

“See, I’m regretting it already,” he says sulkily. He checks his watch. “Shit, I’m going to be late.”

“I’ll text you,” Calum says as Luke tosses his cup in a bin and shoulders his bag.

“I’m sure you will,” Luke says over his shoulder.

“Bye, Pretty Boy Luke!”

Luke just puts his middle finger up at Calum without turning around.

He speed-walks back to the Opera House (a quick walk means just enough time for the second variation in Act Three of _Don Quixote_ ), and he’s just pulling off his shoes when his phone buzzes in his pocket with a text:

**Unknown:**

_this is sexy barman calum_

Luke can’t help but laugh as he quickly types out a reply whilst he warms up for his next class.

**Pretty Boy Luke:**

_I’m not saving you in my phone as that_

**Unknown:**

_I heard what your friend said that night_

_Sexy barman calum is a fact_

**Pretty Boy Luke:**

_I think stalker calum might be more appropriate_

_criminal calum_

_might-be-a-serial-killer calum_

**Unknown:**

_criminal calum has a nice ring to it actually_

_i told you i would leave you alone!_

_you didn’t want me to_

_you told me you wanted to go for drinks_

_this is all on you Luke_

**Pretty Boy Luke:**

_Yeah sure_

_Where am i meeting you tonight then_

_Before i change my mind_

**Criminal Calum:**

_No.32 the old town? 8?_

**Pretty Boy Luke:**

_You might see me there_

**Criminal Calum:**

_i better do pretty boy_

_no backing out now_

Luke smiles and shakes his head to himself as he does a few _échappé sauté battu_ to warm up. He supposes there isn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my blog is back baby! come find me on [tumblr ](kaleidoscopeminds.tumblr.com)


	3. secretly he wanted him as well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Calum grins at him slowly when he notices Luke, eyes glinting in the low light. He’s got his leather jacket on again, accompanied as usual by his Docs and more black jeans, but this time he’s wearing what looks like a tank top underneath his jacket. Luke feels like he might trip over his own feet as he makes his way over to Calum, and he never trips. Ever.
> 
> Fuck, he hates Calum, hates his stupid lips which are in a permanent smirk, his ridiculously huge arms and the way his eyes flash when he looks at Luke, with a simmering fire that threatens to set Luke alight, flames licking up his wrists to his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can anyone believe i am uploading this with any semblance of organisation but it is WEDNESDAY and i am here!! okay a couple of things i must do here. thank you to everyone who has commented or said lovely things about this so far, particularly the club who give me way more love than i deserve!!! 
> 
> special thanks go to the wonderful san who not only has been lovely about this (and lovely all the time) but also made the [most amazing gifset](https://calumsthood.tumblr.com/post/634863744455000064/he-did-ballet-by-kaleidoscopeminds-lukes-life) to go along with this story. maybe I cried!!! maybe i owe san my life!!! anyway go follow san on tumblr she is a gift to all xox
> 
> apologies in advance for the remarkable lack of dancing in this chapter for what is supposed to be a ballet au

Luke is nervous. He’s nervous and predictable and so he’s channelling his nervous energy the only way he knows how; dancing. Except he left the studio an hour ago so he’s dancing in the only space currently available to him, which is the living room of the tiny flat he shares with Michael.

“You're making me feel sick,” Michael complains from where he’s slumped on the sofa under a blanket, watching TV and trying to ignore Luke.

Luke is doing a series of the tightest pirouettes possible in the metre square space between the sofa and the wall, an exercise in how pulled up he can be, otherwise he’ll smack his knee into the sofa or take the lamp off the side table. If he fills his head with focusing on his turns, on spotting perfectly using the top of the mirror on the opposite wall, then maybe he will stop catastrophising about all the ways agreeing to go out with Calum is a terrible idea.

“If you were going to be like this I would have never encouraged you seeing Calum in the first place,” Michael continues grumpily. “This is about making you less uptight.”

“I can’t win,” Luke snaps back, pausing his series of pirouettes to glare at Michael.

“Okay, I’m going to need you to relax babe,” Michael says levelly. “This is a date. Just a date. You’ve been on dates before.”

“I know,” Luke says, sagging. “But I don’t even know why I agreed to it. I know I shouldn’t be seeing anyone right now, I don’t have time.”

“Not to state the obvious but you’re overthinking this,” Michael says. “It's one date with a sexy man. Just go and get ready and try to ignore your brain for a bit.”

Luke rolls his eyes at Michael but drags himself off to his room and wrenches open his wardrobe. He knows he’s behaving like a child about this, but the prospect of spending several hours one on one with Calum was making him unreasonably anxious.

“Careful, if you give the jackets a stronger glare they might actually catch fire,” Michael says dryly from the doorway where he’s followed Luke.

“I’m just not gonna go,” Luke says, flopping down onto his bed and folding his legs up underneath him.

“Yes you fucking are, Luke, get a grip,” Michael rolls his eyes. “What are you going to tell him now if you don’t go?”

“I could just say that I’ve changed my mind,” Luke says, dropping his chin into his hands. 

“No fucking way, the only thing that could make this whole ordeal worse is if you don’t actually end up going,” Michael says, leaning against the door frame. “Put your leather trousers and black shirt on and get out my face.” 

“I hate it when you give me the tough love bit,” Luke says grumpily, but gets up to start pulling the aforementioned items out of his wardrobe, because Michael is never wrong about this kind of thing, and even Luke can admit his legs do look particularly good in those trousers.

“It's literally the only way to get you to do anything,” Michael says with a wry smile. “Put your chains on too that’ll really get him going.”

“Stop. I’m not trying to sleep with him,” Luke says resolutely. 

“Then what exactly is the point of this?” asks Michael.

“I don’t know,” Luke says slightly hysterically. “That’s why I should cancel.”

“Oh for fucks sake, just squeeze your stupidly long legs into those trousers and get out of the flat right now,” Michael says, turning on his heel and leaving the room. 

“But Michael, I really think—” Luke calls after him.

“Legs. In. Trousers!” Michael’s voice interrupts him from down the hall.

**⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒**

Luke dithers so much that by the time Michael forcibly manages to kick him out the front door, he’s close to fifteen minutes later than he intended and he has to rush to the bar when he gets off the tube at Clapham Common. When he finally arrives outside No.32 he takes a second before he goes in to tuck his hair behind his ear and try to slow his breathing a little so he doesn’t look too eager. Honestly, what is the point in being a professional dancer if you can’t even run less than half a mile without being out of breath? He shakes himself slightly and pushes open the door into the warmth of the bar, eyes scanning to find Calum, hoping that he’s here already so he doesn’t have to wait on his own. Luckily, he spots him fairly quickly, his eyes drawn to where he’s leant up against the bar.

Calum grins at him slowly when he notices Luke, eyes glinting in the low light. He’s got his leather jacket on again, accompanied as usual by his Docs and more black jeans, but this time he’s wearing what looks like a tank top underneath his jacket. Luke feels like he might trip over his own feet as he makes his way over to Calum, and he never trips. Ever.

Fuck, he hates Calum, hates his stupid lips which are in a permanent smirk, his ridiculously huge arms and the way his eyes flash when he looks at Luke, with a simmering fire that threatens to set Luke alight, flames licking up his wrists to his chest. He’s always prided himself on his level-headedness, being self-possessed was a quality that should be admired (whatever his trainers might say), and they way Calum was fucking him up was unprecedented. He takes a deep breath to steel himself. It was just one evening that he had been the one to agree to. He could do this.

“Fucking hell,” Calum murmurs as Luke approaches and pulls him into a quick hug. Luke inhales in slight surprise as he’s pulled against Calum’s body, feeling his arms curl around his shoulders and his chest press against Calum’s, the spicy scent of this aftershave filling his nose and his warmth seeping into Luke’s skin.

“What?” Luke squeaks slightly and then coughs as he steps away, trying to put some distance between his and Calum’s body.

“Should have warned me you were going to turn up looking like this,” Calum smirks, eyes travelling slowly down Luke’s body suggestively, and back up again to meet Luke’s own eyes.

“No, stop,” Luke says grumpily. “If you want me to stay here then you cannot make comments like that.”

Calum raises his eyebrows. “Do you actually mean that, Pretty Boy? Because I think you quite like being complimented.”

Luke just continues to glare. Calum’s might be right but he’s going to need him to stop looking at him like that if Luke’s going to get through this evening without doing something really stupid. Like confessing some feelings. Or asking to suck Calum’s dick. 

“Okay fine, I’ll stop.” Calum raises his hands in surrender. “But before I do just know your arse looks truly magnificent in those pants.” 

Luke blushes, he can’t help it. 

“I like that,” Calum continues in a murmur clocking the way Luke knows his face is filling with colour. “Makes me wonder what else I could do to make you blush.”

Luke genuinely thinks his knees might give out, so quickly seats himself at a stool at the bar whilst throwing another pointed glare at Calum.

“What did I just say?” Luke says.

Calum just laughs, sitting down on the stool opposite Luke and flagging down a bartender.

“Pint of the Camden Pale, please,” Calum says. He turns to Luke. “For you?”

“Just a lime and soda, please,” Luke says.

“Really?” Calum asks with an amused look.

“I’m not supposed to drink,” Luke explains.

“You were the other week.”

“I was having a bad day,” Luke says defensively.

“And beer was the answer to that?” Calum asks.

“I drink sometimes, but I try not to make a habit of it, especially when I have a class the next morning,” Luke says firmly. He doesn’t let slip the other reason why he decided not to drink this evening; that he’s not sure he can make logical decisions if he’s under the influence, and making logical decisions around Calum was already proving to be a challenge. 

Calum shakes his head at him but doesn’t push, he pays for the drinks and thanks the bartender when he slides them over.

“Thank you,” Luke says, taking a sip of his drink.

“It was less than a quid, Luke, you do not need to thank me,” Calum says with a smirk.

Luke just shrugs.

“So, Pretty Boy, why did you finally agree to come out with me?” Calum asks, with a questioning look.

Luke pauses for a moment and tries to sort through his own thoughts. What exactly can he tell Calum? "I don’t know"? "I still don’t think it’s a good idea but I’m here anyway"? "I wasn’t supposed to say yes but it came out of my mouth accidentally"? "It was actually a clone of me who agreed to it, the real me is back in my flat doing yoga"?

“You intrigue me.” Is what Luke settles on, which isn’t a lie. 

“Intriguing eh?” Calm smiles. “Never been called that before.”

“I feel like I don’t know anything about you,” Luke continues.

“Ask away, mate,” Calum says. “I’m an open book.”

“That’s not true!” Luke protests. “You’re needlessly mysterious. You show up all around London, you give out free teas and you flirt with random people who buy drinks at the bar you work at. That’s all the info I’ve got.”

“Are you sure?” Calum says with a small smile. “Have you not spoken to Michael at all about me?”

“He is such a fucking gossip,” Luke says with a small noise of outrage.

“And I don’t flirt with random people,” Calum says. “Only bloody gorgeous ballet dancers.” 

Luke shakes his head and looks down to hide the smile that threatens to take over his face. It wasn’t that he wasn’t used to compliments, but hearing them from Calum never failed to do something to him that he couldn’t quite articulate and he was trying really hard not to be charmed by him. 

“Okay, I know you’re a bassist. Tell me about your band,” Luke says, deciding to change the subject.

“See I knew I couldn't be the only one trying to get info out of a flatmate,” Calum says, winking at Luke. “Yes, I’m in a band. Just me and Ashton, the bloke your flatmate is fucking, or whatever they’re doing.” 

Luke snorts. “Yeah, 'whatever they’re doing' sounds about right." He shakes his head. “Just the two of you? That’s unusual?”

“Yeah a bit, I reckon,” Calum says, taking a sip of his drink. “Ashton says that’s what makes us unique but I think we just confuse people.” He rolls his eyes slightly at Luke.

“Having a unique selling point is a good thing,” Luke muses.

“Tell that to, well, anybody,” Calum says. “It’s not doing us a whole lot of good at the moment.”

“How does it work then, musically?” Luke asks.

“So, as you know by now, I play the bass. But I have it hooked up to two amps and I use pedals to switch between how a traditional bass sounds, and warping the effect to make it sound like an electric guitar,” Calum says. “I’ve always played the bass but it’s interesting to me to see how far you can push what’s expected out of an instrument. Why can’t you create the melody with a bass, why does it have to stay in the rhythm section?”

Luke can see and feel the excitement and passion radiate off Calum as he talks about his music, in a way that he hadn’t seen before. It makes him understand him a little more, this band was his ballet. His drive. Seeing him have the passion for it makes him even sexier, something that Luke realises as Calum is still talking, and he thinks his eyes might be glazing over a little as he just watches Calum talk more than he hears what he’s actually saying.

“You okay there, Pretty Boy?” Calum says, pausing slightly and smirking at Luke when it clearly becomes obvious that he’s not listening anymore.

“Yeah sorry,” Luke shakes his head to clear it and focuses. “So what kind of music do you play?”

“Rock, mainly,” Calum says with slight distaste.

“What’s that face for?” Luke asks with a smile.

“This is going to sound pretentious but I hate shoving us into a box like that,” Calum says with a small shake of his head.

“What, does your unique sound supersede the need for musical genres?” Luke teases. He doesn’t know when he decided that he now teases Calum but he’s not questioning it.

“Fuck off, you sound like Ashton,” Calum says, but there’s no heat in it, and he’s smiling at Luke, seeming to enjoy this side of him. “Maybe you should come and listen to us play before you make any judgements, how about that?”

“Maybe I will,” Luke says, what harm could it do really?

“Yeah?” Calum asks, something warm flickering in his brown eyes. “We’re doing a gig at Windmill Brixton in a couple of weeks if you’re up for it? I think Ashton was planning to ask your flatmate but he’s probably still working up the courage.”

Luke rolls his eyes. “We’ll both be there.” 

He can’t quite believe he’s been here less than half an hour and he’s already agreed to see Calum again. He knew his self-control was low when it came to Calum but this really was new levels of keen even for him.

“Ashton will be stoked,” Calum says with a small smile.

“I’m sure Ashton will be,” Luke says, smirking a little himself and raising his eyebrows at Calum.

“So come on then, I’ve heard a bit about you Boy Wonder,” Calum says, changing the subject. “How does an Australian boy end up in London dancing for the Royal Ballet?”

Luke laughs and shakes his head and starts to tell Calum about himself. He’s not sure when he got to the point where he felt he could share his life story with Calum, but as with every time he’s bumped into Calum, he genuinely looks interested in what Luke has to say. He laughs in the right places, asks questions when he wants more information, and generally looks happy to know Luke better. Luke struggles to reconcile the version of Calum he has in his head, the confident and flirtatious, smooth-talking barman, with the one he has in front of him, snorting into his pint at Luke’s anecdotes about his fellow dancers, and smiling softly with his eyes crinkling when Luke talks about his family. They get through their round of drinks and Calum flags down the barman to order them another, denying Luke’s protests to pay. 

“That’ll be why you sound like you’re British then,” Calum says when he learns Luke has been in London for seven years. “Had the Aussie stamped out of ya.”

“I can see it’s still strong in you,” Luke says with a laugh. “When did you get here?”

“Oh yeah, still True Blue me,” Calum says with a grin, exaggerating his Australian accent. “About a year ago? Ashton and I decided that if we wanted to give this music thing a proper go we needed to leave ‘Straya. We weren’t gonna get anywhere playing out of woop woop.”

Luke laughs at Calum, but the way he talks even when he’s joking around is inherently comforting, a little piece of home he didn’t even know he was missing. 

“So why London?” 

“The music scene is good here,” Calum says thoughtfully, finger swiping down the condensation on his second pint. He smiles at Luke wryly. “Not good to us so far, but there’s hope yet.”

“So what’s the goal?” Luke asks.

Calum sighs and takes a sip of his drink. “To be signed essentially. I’ll be honest I knew it would be hard, but not this hard, it's tough to even get a gig. We’ve only managed to get this one though sweet-talking the boss of the pub where we work, he’s mates with the owner of the Windmill. We’ve mostly been doing open-mic nights with singer-songwriters which gives everyone a bit of a shock.” Calum laughs quietly to himself.

“I’m sure something will come along soon,” Luke says, as if he knows anything about the London music scene.

“You haven't heard us play yet,” Calu replies with a wink. 

“Okay, I’ll keep all comments on your success to myself until then,” Luke says with a smile. Calum grins back at him and there’s a quiet moment when their eyes meet before Luke has to look away, casting his eyes down to where he’s fiddling with the chain on his belt. 

The night continues in silly anecdotes and laughter, and somewhere along the way, Luke’s forgotten that he’s meant to be keeping a distance from Calum and has ended up flirting with him right back, joking around and making fun of the other people in the bar. Suddenly it's half-past eleven and Luke’s finishing his fourth drink when he checks his watch.

“I should go,” Luke says, slightly reluctantly. “I have a class in the morning.” 

“An 11am one?” Calum asks.

Luke nods with a smile. “Alright might-be-serial-killer Calum, try to sound a little less stalkerish.”

Calum laughs loudly. “Sorry, I’ll try to tone it back. Maybe see you at the café after?”

“Only if there’s tea,” Luke says seriously, before flashing Calum a grin and hopping off his stool. 

They walk out the door of the bar and pause just outside in the frosty February air. 

Luke chances a look at Calum and finds the other man already looking back at him, his eyes the colour of melted chocolate, swirling with warmth and flashing with something intense. Luke watches them track down to his lips as his own eyes roam the rest of Calum’s face, sliding down his nose and coming to rest on Calum’s own lips, pink and plush, as Calum swipes his tongue along them. Luke realises with a start just how close the two of them now are, and it takes nothing for him to tilt his head slightly and make the connection with Calum’s mouth.

Calum makes a small noise of appreciation as his arms come up to slip around Luke’s waist, hands spanning the expanse of his back and burning through his jacket, and for a second Luke’s brain is blissfully empty. All he can think is _calumcalumcalum,_ his lips moving against Calum's, Luke's nose filled with his scent and Calum's body pressed against his. 

Luke’s brain, unfortunately, catches up with him all too soon and he panics, all his worries and reasons for not doing exactly what he's doing come flooding back, and he pulls his face away from Calum’s, blinking at him in the light that the streetlamp next to them is basking them in, his breath unsteady and his hands shaking slightly. 

“I’m sorry,” Luke says quickly. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“I didn’t mind,” Calum says with a smirk and leans back in. Luke takes a step back automatically and Calum looks at him in confusion.

“I shouldn’t. I can’t—” Luke stumbles as he pulls himself further away from Calum.

Calum continues to look at him questioningly, arms still slightly raised as if Luke is still standing there between them and Luke is overcome with the feeling that he wishes he was, his body almost betraying him and leaning back towards the warmth of Calum, how easy it would be just to fall back into his arms. Instead, he retreats further, wrapping his black denim jacket around himself and crossing his arms in front of him, as if he can put up a physical barrier between him and everything Calum is offering. His lips sting with the ghost of Calum’s still lingering there and he resists the urge to press his fingers against them. He tries to explain himself but the words come out hurried and unintentionally harsh, cutting through the cold night and severing the moment between the two of them. 

“I can’t do this. I can’t see anyone right now. I need to focus I—” Luke sighs in frustration. “I shouldn’t have agreed to come out with you.”

Luke sees something flash across Calum’s face for a second before he schools it back to his normal smirk, if slightly bitter, dropping his arms to swing uselessly beside him.

“I probably should have seen that coming,” Calum says. He pauses before raising an eyebrow at Luke, waiting for him to say something. Luke tries, but he opens his mouth and nothing comes out. 

Calum just shakes his head slightly. “I guess I’ll see you around, Pretty Boy,” He says quietly. He stuffs his hands into his pockets and walks off down the street without turning around.

Luke groans and knocks his head on the wall of the building a few times, before turning and walking off towards the common, deciding to walk home so he doesn’t bump into Calum at the tube station. He’s crossing Clapham Common when he realises that he probably should check in with someone as it's now midnight, and he’s walking alone in the pitch black, so he digs his phone out of his pocket and taps on Michael’s number.

“I thought you’d be mid-fuck by now,” Michael says by way of a greeting.

“Yeah well I’m not,” Luke says miserably. “I’m walking home.”

“What? Why? Are you okay?” Michael says, and Luke can hear the edge of worry in his voice. “What happened? Did he do something?”

“No, Michael,” Luke sighs. “I’m fine. It was great. He was great.”

“Then why are you walking home instead of getting the tube to sexy barman Calum’s flat in Brixton?”

“I kissed him,” Luke says, ignoring the question.

“Well that was a good start,” Michael says impatiently. “Please, do go on and tell me how you managed to fuck it up.”

“Then I stopped kissing him,” Luke continues quietly.

“Less ideal,” Michael says. There’s a pause. “Luke, come on. What happened?”

“Then I told him that I should have never agreed to the date in the first place,” Luke basically mumbles into his phone.

“Fucking hell, Luke,” Michael sighs. “That’s really fucked up, even for you.”

“Well, it was true! I shouldn’t have! I told you I shouldn't have gone!” Luke protests.

“Why was it true?”

“Because he was actually nice!” Luke bursts out. “Because he was interesting and funny and he was interested in _me_ and we spent the whole night laughing! That’s why I shouldn’t have gone out with him! I was better off before I knew any of that!”

There’s a pause and Luke checks to see that he hasn’t been disconnected.

“Luke, what the fuck are you doing?” He hears Michael say after a few seconds.

Luke drags his hand through his hair and sighs, the puff of air coming out in a frosty cloud from his lips and disappearing into the night air in wisps of fog. He honestly wishes he knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come talk to me on [tumblr](kaleidoscopeminds.tumblr.com)


	4. and looks up at the man that he turned down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, as soon as he stops dancing, Calum's face pops back into his head, the slightly hurt look when Luke had told him he shouldn't have agreed to go out with him ever-present behind Luke’s closed eyes. Luke groans and rests his forehead against the cool surface of the mirrors in the studio, wondering when his life got so complicated. 
> 
> He spends the rest of the night painstakingly picking through a multitude of other variations, correcting every slightly off arm position and unstretched toe, pushing his leaps even higher and turning until he wears a hole in his sock under his big toe. But even after he’s also worn himself out, his muscles screaming at him and his bones aching with exhaustion, Calum’s still on his mind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!!!! So I genuinely thought I wasn't going to get this one out but I did, we are on time and we are vibing!!!
> 
> Thanks as always to the lovely club, my favourite; San, and everyone else who has said something nice about this fic. NO thanks to the actual 5sos who had the audacity to be active on ballet fic day. Lost my fucking mind lads.
> 
> According to my plan we are half-way through!! Exciting!!! Hope you enjoy this one, its fun<3

It’s not necessarily a shock when Calum doesn’t show up at the cafe the next day but Luke still doesn’t have to like it. He miserably pays for his own tea, and just shrugs at the barista who asks where the bleached haired man in the leather jacket is.

Luke tries to tell himself that it's for the best, that without Calum showing up everywhere he can actually focus on his dancing, on pushing himself a little more in preparation for promotions, but if he’s honest with himself it's just making him more distracted. He looks for Calum everywhere subconsciously, turning if he catches a glance of a blonde shaved head or pair of platform Docs on the pavement, and checks his phone every time he gets a notification, sagging in disappointment when each time it's not Calum.

“You’re a nightmare,” Michael says, one night in their kitchen as Luke throws down the pan he’s drying in favour of checking his phone which has just buzzed. It’s an email and Luke tosses it back onto the counter with a huff.

“What do you mean?” Luke says nonchalantly, continuing to dry the pan.

“You kissed the man, immediately told him you should have never gone out, haven’t apologised at all, and are waiting for him to talk to you?” Michael says dryly, rinsing a glass under the tap.

“Fuck off,” Luke says, putting the pan away and picking up a plate. “I’m not waiting for him to talk to me.”

“You literally run to grab your phone every time you get a notification,” Michael says. “I’ve never seen you move this fast and I’ve watched you do several series of quadruple pirouettes.”

Luke glares at Michael. “It's better this way.”

“Keep telling yourself that, babe,” Michael says, rolling his eyes. “I’m going to Ash’s in a bit, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Can you—” Luke starts then quickly stops.

“Can I what, Luke?” Michael asks, folding his arms.

“If you see Calum,” Luke tries again. 

Michael raises his eyebrows at him. 

“Just see how he is,” Luke mumbles.

“I’m not fucking spying on Calum for you Luke,” Michael says flatly. “If you want to see how he is, maybe do us all a favour and ask him yourself.”

“But you tell Ashton things about me which Calum finds out,” Luke whines.

“No I don’t,” Michael says with a frown. “I haven’t breathed a word about you since you lost your shit about it. I refuse to be the middle man here.” 

Michael leaves the kitchen and Luke groans. He decides he needs to get out of his head a bit tonight, and texts a guy he knows who’s the owner of a studio space. It’ll mean trekking back into central but he can’t spend the evening in the flat on his own, he’ll go insane.

He puts the last of the plates away and grabs his bag and hoodie, arriving at the door to leave at the same time as Michael.

“You decided to come with me and see him face to face?” Michael says disbelievingly, opening the flat door and closing it behind them when they’ve both stepped through. “And you didn’t think to change out of your tights first?”

Luke pulls a face at Michael as they head towards the main door of the building. “I’m going to the studio, “ He says huffily. 

“Of course you are,” Michael says rolling his eyes. “Good, that means I’ll only have you moping next to me until we get to Stockwell.”

“I don’t mope,” Luke says grumpily. He’s not moping. He’s not.

“Luke, if you looked up moping in the dictionary, you’d see a photo of you; tights, man bun and all,” Michael says snorting.

“That’s enough about me,” Luke says firmly, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. “So going to see Ashton again? What’s going on there? I haven’t heard much about him?”

Michael gives him an exasperated look as they walk along. Luke interprets the silence and winces a little.

“Okay, maybe I haven’t asked,” He says sheepishly and Michael gives him a dry smile.

Luke feels a bit guilty, he’s been so wrapped up in his own head (and in Calum) that he hasn’t actually spoken to Michael about Ashton, and he knows he’s seeing him multiple times a week. They get to the tube station and both tap through, and Luke starts again on the subject when they get on the escalator. 

“But I’m asking now?” Luke says hopefully. “How’s it going, are you together?”

“No,” Michael snorts. “We’re just seeing how things are going, it's casual.”

“Casual?” Luke asks with a smile. “I’m not sure seeing him this much is casual.”

“Oh fuck off,” Michael says, turning around to face the way they're travelling. “I refuse to take any boy advice from you, you’re a mess.”

Luke punches Michael in the shoulder, but can’t refute what he’s said.

Luke spends the few stops to Stockwell finding out a bit more about Ashton, and to be fair, he does like the sound of the guy, and wishes he could chat to him without feeling horribly guilty about Calum, or wondering what he would tell Calum after they speak. He wishes he could talk to anyone without thinking about Calum come to think of it. He waves bye to Michael as he changes lines, and tries to rationalise why he feels this way the rest of the way to the studio, but he gets nowhere in deciphering quite why Calum is on his mind so much.

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Luke flicks the lights on in the studio and inhales deeply. The scent of a dance studio is inherently calming to Luke in a way little else is, the smell of waxed wooden floors, mixed with a hint of sweat and the leather of ballet shoes is so familiar it soothes his racing brain the moment he steps foot in it, hard floor familiar beneath his feet.

He drops his bag by the mirrors but elects to keep his hoodie and sweatpants on owing to the temperature of the room. He pulls his phone and a small speaker out of his bag and sets it up, flicking through his Spotify before settling on his 90's bangers playlist to warm up to. Moving through his stretches on instinct, he tries to empty his head of other thoughts, then goes through a series of exercises and jumps to warm up his muscles. 

Luke starts by focussing on the Act III variation of Sleeping Beauty, a fiendishly difficult series of steps that Luke has been working on for the past few months in the hope that perfecting it might give him the best chance of being promoted to Principal. It’s the third section that’s causing Luke the most problems, it's one of the longest _melangés_ in classical ballet, and the sheer number of _sauts de basque_ , _grande jetés_ and _coupes jetés_ , followed by a ridiculous number of _chaînés_ even challenges Luke’s stamina and precision. He repeats and repeats until he feels like the moves are second nature to him, but then watches himself perform it in the mirror and feels like there’s something lacking. He hears that guest choreographer's voice in his head again asking if he knows how to feel, and abruptly stops, breathing hard and resting for a minute, taking a sip of water, closing his eyes and trying to re-focus.

Unfortunately, as soon as he stops dancing, Calum's face pops back into his head, the slightly hurt look when Luke had told him he shouldn't have agreed to go out with him ever-present behind Luke’s closed eyes. Luke groans and rests his forehead against the cool surface of the mirrors in the studio, wondering when his life got so complicated. 

He spends the rest of the night painstakingly picking through a multitude of other variations, correcting every slightly off arm position and unstretched toe, pushing his leaps even higher and turning until he wears a hole in his sock under his big toe. But even after he’s also worn himself out, his muscles screaming at him and his bones aching with exhaustion, Calum’s still on his mind. 

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

  
  


“So,” Michael says, sitting down on the sofa next to Luke and passing him a cup of tea.

“So?” Luke says suspiciously. Michael doesn’t make tea unprompted unless he wants something or is about to break some terrible news. 

“You know how you agreed to go and see Calum and Ashton’s band when you went on that date with Calum the other week?” Michael starts.

“I thought you agreed we wouldn’t speak about that again,” Luke says grumpily. 

“Well I think you should go,” Michael says, completely ignoring Luke.

“There’s no way I’m going,” Luke says disbelievingly. “You’ve got to be joking.”

“Why not?” Michael says innocently. “You said you would go?”

“Yeah before I kissed him and then ran away,” Luke protests.

“Oh, so you’re admitting you did that now then?” Michael says

“Fuck off, please, just this once,” Luke says rolling his eyes.

“I think you should come,” Michael ploughs on. “I’m going.”

“Yes because you’re actually with Ashton,” Luke says slowly. He brings his feet up onto the sofa and wraps his arms around his legs defensively.

“No, I’m not,” Michael says, going red. “We’re just seeing each other.”

“You’ve seen him every day for the past two weeks,” Luke says flatly. He’s gotten used to seeing Ashton around the flat, not that he ever hangs around to speak to the other man, escaping to class or to the studio as soon as he catches a glimpse of him. 

“Stop changing the subject,” Michael says. “We’re going.”

“Michael, I can’t,” Luke whines.

“Don’t lie to me Luke, I know you want to see him” Michael says rolling his eyes. “You’ve been looking for him everywhere.”

Luke just glares at Michael. He can’t go, he hasn’t heard from Calum at all since the date (not that he’s tried to contact him either), he knows the other man wouldn’t actually want him to come, Luke pretty much rejecting him was probably enough to warrant a rescinding of the invitation. He couldn’t just show up. He wouldn’t. 

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Luke wipes his hands on his trousers and takes several deep breaths as they enter the venue. 

“Please chill out a little,” Michael murmurs from next to him, shrugging his jacket off and looking around. "You're here now, there's nothing left to stress about."

“I need. A drink,” Luke says, grabbing Michael’s arm and dragging him towards the bar in the low lit pub. 

“Luke, you’ve already had a beer,” Michael snorts. 

“Yes,” Luke says, and continues on his mission.

He orders two pints and two tequilas as soon as he manages to worm his way to the front.

“I don’t want a tequila,” Michael says with distaste.

“I know,” Luke says, picking up and downing the shots one after the other, discarding the lime wedges, before handing a pint to Michael and taking a large gulp of his own.

“Fucking hell,” Michael says underneath his breath. Luke just gives him a withering glance whilst gulping down half his pint. 

They stay by the bar for a bit, Michael chatting to him, but Luke can barely focus on what he’s saying, eyes flitting around the pub and hands fiddling with his necklaces.

“What?” He says as Michael looks at him like he’s expecting an answer.

“Come on,” Michael sighs. "Let's go and find a place to stand, there’s no point talking to you,” Michael says, rolling his eyes.

“I’m just gonna get another drink,” Luke says, waving down the barman as Michael shakes his head at him.

They wander over to the middle of the space where people are starting to congregate, and Luke stops Michael before they get too far forward. Michael doesn’t try to speak to Luke again, just pulls out his phone and starts texting as Luke drinks his way steadily through his pint and more people start to fill in around them. A few minutes later and the lights in the pub dim slightly, and Luke sees two people emerge from the side of the small stage.

“Holy fuck,” Luke whispers out and grabs Michael’s arm next to him.

Calum comes onto the stage in a dark long sleeve with a T-shirt layered on top, ripped blue jeans, Docs, and thick chains around his neck. But that’s not it, his hair is now _blue,_ and he’s holding a bass in one of his massive hands as if it weighs nothing _._ He bends down to plug his bass into the amps in front of him and Luke tries to regulate his breathing. He turns to look at Michael for help, but he’s not fairing much better, his eyes focussed on Ashton who’s sat down behind his drum kit and thrown an outrageous wink in Michael’s direction.

“I’m going to—” Luke starts, gesturing into the edge of the room where there’s a dark corner he can maybe hide himself in and evaporate, hopefully.

“Stay where you are, Luke,” Michael hisses out the side of his mouth.

“Luke wants to look around for another escape but his eyes are drawn back to Calum who’s just started talking into the microphone.

“G’day everyone, thanks for coming tonight,” Calum's voice sends a shiver down Luke’s neck, as smooth as he remembers it, even echoing around the small venue. “I’m Calum and that bloke there is Ashton. We’re Blue Mountain Tragedy and we’re going to play a few songs for you if that’s alright?”

A small cheer and some applause breaks out across the room and Calum grins. Luke watches his eyes cast over the room and Luke thinks that he really wishes he’d gone to hide in that corner when Calum’s eyes land on him. He knows he’s too tall to be inconspicuous (not to mention the teal blue satin shirt he’d decided to put on), and he wants to avoid Calum’s eyes but he can’t look away. Calum looks startled for a second, surprised at seeing Luke standing in front of him, but his face soon smoothes out, and his perpetual smirk comes to his face as he stares into Luke’s eyes, before shaking his head slightly and turning back to the mic.

“This one's called ‘Figure It Out’, “ Calum says.

He looks down and taps on something with his foot then starts picking out a dirty bassline before he starts singing. Ashton joins in a few bars later with a smack on the snares and a crash of the cymbals before he picks up the rhythm. 

Luke’s not sure he can process exactly what’s happening and he feels his mouth drop open. Calum sounds ridiculously good, his voice smooth over the loud and rough noise of their instruments but it's the way he’s playing his bass which Luke is transfixed on. He uses his feet on the pedals in front of him to switch the sound of the bass, the way he was describing to Luke the other day, his long fingers move fast over the frets and the fingers on the other hand strum equally as deftly. They hit the pre-chorus and Calum lifts his strumming hand off the strings to raise it in the air whilst he continues to play with one hand, his fingers moving impossibly fast. Luke’s grateful for the noise of the music because he thinks that a wounded sound might come out of his mouth that he has no control over. They end the first song with a crash of Ashton’s drums and applause and cheers follow. Luke claps slowly, trying to wrap his head around what he’s just witnessed, as Calum makes eye contact with him again and winks, before turning to grab a pint glass next to his amp. 

“Mikey,” Luke says, fingers digging into Michael’s wrist, eyes still following Calum on stage.

“I know, Luke,” Michael says, a laugh in his voice.

“Did you see?” Luke tries again.

“Yes, Luke,” Michael says

“When he did the one-hand thing.”

“I saw, Luke.”

“Fuck.” 

“This is why I told you you had to come,” Michael says smugly, and Luke turns to him with an accusing look.

“You knew about—” Luke pauses, gesturing at the stage. “That?”

“I caught the end of them practising the other night,” Michael says.

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” Luke says, voice getting higher.

“I told you, if you wanted info on Calum you needed to speak to him yourself,” Michael says, turning back towards the stage. “And what was I going to say? Calum looks really fucking hot when he plays bass, I really think you should reconsider your decision to not have sex with him?”

Luke just gapes at Michael for a second, but then Calum starts playing again and his attention is drawn back to the stage. 

Luke spends the rest of their set watching Calum with his mouth open and trying to avoid his eyes every time Calum looks at him. Which is a lot. 

Luke doesn’t know what to think. He thought he might be getting over Calum (not that they had ever been anything for him to get over), that he might be able to go back to living his life the way he was before Calum had walked into it, but watching the way he sings, closing his eyes slightly, and the way he moves on stage just makes Luke want. He wants Calum, badly. Anything and everything Calum will give him. He downs the rest of his drink and ignores the way his vision is starting to haze. 

At the end of their set Michael and Luke wander over to stand next to a tall table at the edge of the bar, and Luke orders another drink, despite knowing he really shouldn’t. Ashton appears fairly quickly and greets Michael by landing a kiss square on his lips. Michael goes red and pushes Ashton’s shoulder, but Luke can secretly tell he loves it.

“Hi, Luke,” Ashton says, with a small smirk in Luke’s direction.

“Hi.” Luke nods at Ashton, taking another sip of his drink.

“Enjoy the show?” Ashton says innocently, and Luke watches Michael deliberately step on his foot. 

He’s saved from answering when he sees Calum appear out of the side door that Ashton came out of a few minutes earlier. Calum’s eyes scan the pub immediately, and when his eyes lock onto Luke, a smirk spreads wide on his face and he makes a beckoning motion with two of his fingers towards him. Luke rests his empty drink on the table and doesn’t even bother saying anything to Michael and Ashton as he makes his way over to Calum, feeling as though his feet are moving completely independently from the rest of his body. Calum opens the side door and lets Luke go through in front of him and Luke finds himself in a small passageway, Calum letting the door close behind him.

Luke turns around to find Calum much closer than he was expecting. He can see his eyes burn with intensity, see the slight sheen of sweat on his neck from performing, he can smell the spicy scent of Calum’s aftershave and feels the warmth of his body emanate out of him. Everything is Calum and Luke can’t breathe, his head is spinning and he feels like he’s too drunk but not drunk enough, like he wants to pull away but also get closer.

"Bit of a surprise to see you here, Pretty—"

Luke interrupts Calum by doing the only thing his brain can fathom at that moment; kissing him. Hard.

Calum makes an approving noise under Luke’s lips and it gets aggressive quickly, Luke licking into Calum’s mouth and Calum sinking his teeth into Luke’s bottom lip in retaliation. Luke feels Calum’s hands come up to grip his hips and Luke’s own hands slide up Calum’s arms to curl around his shoulders, as Calum backs him up against the wall in the dark corridor, pressing their bodies together.

Luke drags his mouth away from Calum’s with a gasp, trying to get some oxygen to stop the world spinning, but he’s not sure the lack of oxygen has anything to do with it. Calum’s fingers loop into his trouser’s belt hoops to keep Luke pressed against him and his head drops to the side of Luke’s neck.

“You better not be pulling away from me again, Luke,” Calum barely whispers, teeth grazing his earlobe.

Maybe it’s the sound of Calum’s mouth wrapped around Luke’s name, but Luke makes a noise in his throat that he has no control over and turns his head to capture Calum’s lips back in his own. 

Calum takes this as an opportunity to take control and asserts his dominance over the kiss, one hand coming up to tangle in Luke’s hair at the back of his head and grip, tangling the curls in his fingers, the other coming to rest possessively at the small of Luke’s back, fingertips just ghosting the edge of Luke’s trousers. Calum licks and nips at Luke’s mouth and all Luke can do is hang onto Calum and try to give it back with everything he’s got. Luke feels like his whole body is alight, like Calum has lit a fuse to ignite Luke at every point where they’re touching, sparks jumping between them, and Luke just wants to lean closer, to burn in Calum’s fire. 

“Come back to mine with me,” Luke manages to get out, half-spoken into Calum’s mouth.

Calum pauses his assault on Luke’s lips, and he’s the one to pull away this time, just half an inch, to meet Luke’s eyes.

“You sure?” Calum asks, “You’ve been drinking.” Luke sees the fire in Calum’s eyes soften, shifting to a deep glow, as he looks at Luke. Luke feels the glow radiate over him, warmth filling him from his toes to the top of his head.

He kisses Calum again, once, twice.

“Yeah,” He whispers out. “I’m fine, I promise.” 

“Okay,” Calum murmurs, after considering Luke for a moment. “Let me go and speak to Ashton to get our shit sorted out, wait out the front for me."

Calum steps away from Luke, but reaches out and runs his fingers over Luke’s collarbone, pushing his slightly open shirt even wider across his chest, and leans in quickly to drop a kiss in the hollow of his throat. 

“I’ll be back.” Calum grins at him before pausing for a second. "I'm still annoyed at you for the date, you know." He winks at Luke before slipping back through the door and leaving Luke alone in the dark

Luke drops his head back against the wall and tries to catch his breath, as his heart beats overtime and his hands shake.

He is so fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone was interested, Ashton and Calum's band I've based off a band I really like, and their song figure it out is what inspired the performance in this fic you can watch a performance [here](https://youtu.be/JDU3KojDq2g?t=80) ~~timestamp link for the sexy one-handed playing~~
> 
> Lets chat on [tumblr!](kaleidoscopeminds.tumblr.com)


	5. he wanted him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke thinks about the way those hands had been handling the bass earlier that evening and can’t help but pull Calum’s head up to kiss him again, hard and quick, before moving away slightly, leaving his hand behind Calum’s head, fingernails scratching through the short hairs there. Calum hums slightly in response.
> 
> “Blue hair now then?” Luke asks. “Almost didn't recognise you on stage.”
> 
> “New hair, new me,” Calum says smirking. “You liked the band then?”
> 
> “Might have done,” Luke says, trying to hide his smile. “Liked the look of the bassist in particular.”
> 
> “I’ll let him know,” Calum says with a smug smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!!!!! Here we bloody go!!! Who thought I would be here 5 weeks later having not missed an update... certainly not me!!!! Not sure i have anything to say here apart from thanks to the club as always (peyton and mandie, your sweet words and enthusiasm have really pushed me on this week) and san, just in general and because i know she reads my a/ns, thank you babe for being so supportive always!!!

Luke stands out the front of the pub and breathes the cool air deeply, trying to clear his head a little and get some clarity now he isn’t so close to the heat of Calum’s body. He shudders slightly in the unseasonably cold April evening and cycles through stages of panic. Objectively, he knows bringing Calum home with him is a bad idea, but even here outside in the cool air he still wants to so badly. He’s wondering just how much he might regret it tomorrow, without the alcohol currently coursing through his veins making his decisions questionable and the temptation of Calum impossible to ignore. He debates texting Michael who’s with Ashton sorting stuff out backstage to ask his opinion, but he knows what he’ll say. He’ll just tell Luke to stop thinking so much, which isn’t necessarily helpful (although perhaps true).

Luke fiddles with his shirt collar and bounces on his toes, watching his breath escape him in clouds of fog. He decides to leave without Calum about four times, decides to stay and wait for him maybe five, and is still not sure what he’s going to do when Calum appears out of the door holding his bass guitar case.

“Sorry, was negotiating with Ashton and our mates to take the other stuff,” Calum says apologetically, slinging the guitar case onto his back. “Had to compromise, so guess I’m bringing this with me.”

Luke looks at him and grins, biting his lip slightly. His panic had been soothed slightly by Calum’s appearance, which makes no sense as he’s the one he's panicking over, but somewhere along the way, Calum’s presence in his life was something that settled warm and comfortable in the very centre of his chest.

“Was Michael there?” Luke asks.

“Yeah he’s going back with Ash,” Calum says with a grin. He pauses and then his grin grows even wider. “He told me to tell you ‘go get it, babe’.” 

Luke can feel himself go scarlet and coughs, floundering for a response before deciding to just turn and start to walk down the road towards the tube station. “You coming, or what?”

“I’ll be honest, I'm surprised you even waited for me. A part of me thought you might have done a runner whilst I was inside,” Calum says with a wink, falling into step alongside Luke. “I can’t trust a kiss from you.”

“I’m still considering it,” Luke says seriously, deciding to not express quite how honest that sentiment is. 

“It's too late, I’m following you now,” Calum says, grinning. 

Luke just shakes his head as they continue to the station.

“Why did you come tonight?” Calum asks after they tap through the barriers. “Don’t get me wrong it's always a treat to see you, Pretty Boy, but you pretty much told me to get lost last time I saw you.” 

Luke pauses as they go down the escalator and duck through to the platform, Calum standing behind him the whole time, close and often brushing his hand over Luke’s shoulder, or touching the small of his back gently. Luke is thrumming with energy from Calum touching him, sparks dancing along his skin under the fabric that Calum touches.

“I didn’t say that,” Luke protests after Calum raises his eyebrows at him, prompting an answer for his question.

"You told me you couldn’t see anyone right now and that you never should have agreed to go out with me,” Calum says with a slightly humourless laugh. “That’s a direct quote.”

Luke winces slightly at his words being thrown back at him, Michael had done it enough times, but hearing it in Calum’s smooth voice made it a hundred times worse.

“I can’t,” Luke says. “See anyone right now.”

“Then what are we doing?” Calum asks with raised eyebrows. The train arrives and Calum gestures for Luke to get on first. Luke chooses to stand at the end of a carriage and Calum follows him on, dropping his bass case and holding it between his feet as he stands opposite Luke, close enough that he can feel Calum’s warmth. 

Luke shrugs at Calum and Calum reaches out to put a hand on Luke’s shoulder, thumb brushing over the skin on the side of Luke’s neck. 

“I see,” Calum says, flashing another grin. “I can work with that. I don’t tend to do serious.”

Luke ignores the way that settles uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach and instead focuses on the way his skin burns under Calum’s touch. He needs to get back to his flat immediately, needs to have Calum’s hands on him before his brain decides to complicate things even further. He leans forward and catches Calum’s lips in his own, he’s not normally one for PDA, but can’t help but kiss Calum, just to quieten his thoughts for a second. Calum’s lips moving between his, his tongue just brushing his lower lip slightly, the hint of something more, but not quite, empties his brain blissfully and Luke can't bring himself to move away before he absolutely has to, when the train pulls into Stockwell and they have to change.

He pulls away from Calum with a blush and Calum grins at him, lips red and eyes sparkling. 

“Mm, have I mentioned how much I love it when you blush,” Calum says, curling the hand that was brushing along his skin around the back of his neck, thumb pressing and swiping down Luke’s cheek. 

Luke moves to get off the train. “You might have mentioned it.” 

Calum follows him as they cross over to the other line and Luke hears him make an appreciative noise. 

“Have I mentioned how much I love your arse?” Calum says from behind him.

Luke splutters and turns around to throw Calum a glare. “Shut up.” 

“I was about to say something else but I think I’ll wait till we get back to yours,” Calum says when they’re waiting on the next platform, leaning forward slightly to murmur the words into Luke’s ear.

Luke shivers slightly and blushes again and Calum laughs softly. Luke reaches out and pinches Calum’s waist, before leaving his hand to rest there, feeling the muscles shift under his hand and the warmth of Calum’s torso spread through his fingers. Calum smiles again and slides his hand round the back of Luke’s neck, fingers coming to rest just underneath the collar of his shirt and brushing the skin there. They stand like that until the next train comes, and Calum moves away first, grabbing Luke’s hand and pulling him onto the train. Luke hasn’t felt his hand in Calum’s before, and it's not like they’re the perfect fit, Calum’s hands much larger, dwarfing the size of Luke’s palm, but there’s something very comforting about the way Calum’s long fingers twist between his, slightly calloused from the strings of his bass and running hot against the coolness of Luke’s skin. Calum doesn’t let go as the doors close behind them, he shrugs off the guitar case and leans back on one of the rests next to the door at the end of the carriage, propping his bass up against the wall and pulling Luke to stand between his legs.

He untangles his fingers from Luke’s so he can encircle Luke’s waist with both his hands, covering an impossibly large part of the circumference of it, his thumbs just dipping into Luke’s waistband and pressing against his hipbones. 

Luke thinks about the way those hands had been handling the bass earlier that evening and can’t help but pull Calum’s head up to kiss him again, hard and quick, before moving away slightly, leaving his hand behind Calum’s head, fingernails scratching through the short hairs there. Calum hums slightly in response.

“Blue hair now then?” Luke asks. “Almost didn't recognise you on stage.”

“New hair, new me,” Calum says smirking. “You liked the band then?”

“Might have done,” Luke says, trying to hide his smile. “Liked the look of the bassist in particular.”

“I’ll let him know,” Calum says with a smug smile.

You guys were insane,” Luke says honestly. “Any luck getting signed yet?”

Calum frowns. “No, we were hoping something might come of this, but didn't hear anything tonight.”

Luke doesn’t have any words of wisdom to offer, so just smoothes his fingers over Calum’s forehead, pressing out the creases, and leans in for another kiss, which Calum willingly returns. It starts soft but Calum quickly turns it dirty, licking into Luke’s mouth, and Luke has to pull away before he gets any more inappropriate on the train.

Luckily they arrive into Balham station not long after, and it's Luke that drags Calum this time, barely giving him time to grab his bass before he’s pulling him up the escalator, walking up the steps on the right rather than standing.

“Someone’s eager,” Calum says with a laugh once they get out into the night air again. 

“Coming from you!” Luke protests, but Calum just grabs his hand again pulling him closer before winding an arm around his waist to drag him towards the warmth of this body.

“Pretty Boy, I think I’ve made it very clear how much I’d like to get you underneath me,” Calum says quietly into his ear, following it with an exaggerated wink. “Just enjoying the role reversal for a minute.”

Luke wants to be annoyed but his body betrays him by leaning even closer to Calum as they walk along, before he detaches himself slightly so he can actually lead the way back to his flat. Luke knows can’t be completely sober but he almost feels it in the cold of the evening, and the fact he’s practically dragging Calum home with him when he feels sober is concerning enough. 

Now they’re getting closer to Luke’s flat they can’t seem to help stopping every few feet to get their mouths on each other, Luke’s not sure who’s initiating anymore, just that he feels powerless to stop it. After the fourth or fifth time, Luke breaks away with a gasp.

“Please let's just--” he struggles as Calum drops his lips to Luke’s neck, mouthing up the stretched muscle there as Luke tips his head back. “Let's get back to mine, it's literally around the corner.”

“Whatever you want,” Calum basically growls into Luke’s neck.

Luke forcibly pushes Calum back before grabbing his wrist and pulling him down the road and around the last corner. 

Calum crowds up behind him, pressing himself along Luke’s back as he fumbles for his keys in his pocket, trying to fish out the right one and get it into the main door of the building. He manages to get it open and goes in, letting Calum follow behind him as he makes his way down the hallway to the door to his and Michael’s flat, and quickly unbolts and twists the key in the lock to open it, holding it open for Calum before letting it swing behind him. He’s barely dropped his keys in the dish by the entrance before Calum is back on him again, slamming him up against the door, one hand coming to tangle in his hair and the other pressing his waist firmly against the wood, lips finding Luke’s again. Luke starts shoving Calum's shoulders, but it’s only when Calum steps back slightly and laughs, that Luke is able to start pushing him towards his room down the hallway.

“Nice place,” Calum says, slightly muffled by Luke’s lips as he turns around and Luke kisses him again.

“Shut up,” Luke says, getting his bedroom door open and pulling Calum inside. 

Calum takes a moment to place his bass in the corner, giving Luke time to pull off his boots, before Calum’s on Luke again, kissing him hard and running his hands up Luke’s arms and around his shoulders.

Luke feels himself become pliant under Calum’s hands, his own arms coming up to slide up Calum’s back underneath his jacket before starting to claw at it to get it off Calum’s body, pushing it off his shoulders. Calum shrugs the rest of it off easily and tosses it towards the door, landing on the floor somewhere. He pulls on Luke’s wrists and drags him towards the bed.

Calum sits down on the edge of the bed, and Luke puts himself in Calum’s lap, legs on either side of his thighs, wrapping his arms around Calum’s neck and finding his lips again. Calum moves his head away slightly after a couple of minutes and fists a hand in Luke’s hair, pulling his head back, and Luke groans as Calum attacks his neck again, licking and biting his way down his throat. Luke feels Calum’s other hand come up and deftly open a few buttons on Luke’s shirt, and Luke thinks he’d be impressed at Calum’s dexterity if he wasn’t so distracted by Calum’s tongue licking over his collarbone and sucking the lightest of bruises in the hollow just above it. Although, It does make his brain hover over the thought of Calum’s hands for a moment.

“You’re really sexy when you play the bass,” Luke says, the words coming out of his mouth of their own accord, and Luke would be embarrassed but he’s currently otherwise occupied. He feels Calum’s laugh rumble in his chest underneath his hands as he noses at the junction of Luke’s shoulder.

“Good to know,” Calum says, his mouth moving against Luke’s skin as he talks.

Calum’s lips travel back up Luke’s neck as his hands come around to squeeze Luke’s arse, and he can hear Calum laugh lowly, brushing his lips over Luke’s earlobe and goosebumps travel from that point all the way down Luke’s arms.

“Been waiting to get my hands on this for a while,” Calum murmurs.

“Shut the fuck up,” Luke says, pushing Calum back on the bed and reconnecting their lips.

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Luke wakes up in pain, his muscles aching in a different kind of way to what he’s used to from pushing himself too hard dancing, and his head banging in a tell-tale way that he'd drunk too much the night before. He groans a little and rolls over, pressing his face into the pillow on the other side of the bed before registering that there should be someone else taking up the space that he’s just rolled into.

He blinks open his eyes and sits up, quickly enough that his head spins slightly, the duvet falling to his naked waist, and looks around himself blearily. He frowns at the room like Calum is going to appear out of a corner, but with a slightly nauseous feeling that Luke knows has nothing to do with the hangover, he realises the other man is very much gone. He, his clothes and bass have all vanished, and the only trace of him left are the marks which are purpling slightly on Luke’s hips in the hazy, low light of Luke’s bedroom and the taste of him in Luke’s mouth. Luke winces slightly as he shifts in bed, pulling his hands through his hair, trying to comb through all the knots Calum’s fingers had twisted into it, and massages his temples slightly. As he becomes more aware, he can feel the regret creep across him and come to settle in his stomach and on his shoulders, grey and dense, like the heavy layer of cloud Luke can see through the slight gap in his curtains.

He pulls himself out of bed and fumbles around his room, picking up the clothes from where he (and Calum) had hastily discarded them. He digs his phone out of the pocket of his trousers from last night, where they’re crumpled by the door and his heart leaps in an almost sickening way at the sight of a text from Calum.

Criminal calum:

_ Sorry I couldn’t stay for brekky, had somewhere i needed to be. That was fun, pretty boy, lets do it again sometime?  _

Luke throws his phone on the bed with a huff, but then retrieves it so he can check the time, luckily it's only 10:00 AM and he doesn’t have a class until the afternoon, but he’s awake now and his thoughts definitely won’t let him sleep anymore so he drops his phone again and pulls on some pants before stomping to the bathroom. He gets into the shower, running the water scaldingly hot and tipping his head back under the spray. Resting against the wall slightly, he pours shampoo into his hand and scrubs at his hair furiously, as if he can physically wash the thoughts in his head to get some clarity on what the fuck is going on in there.

Calum had left. He’d come back to Luke’s for a fuck and then he’d left. And that’s all Luke wanted wasn’t it? It's what Michael had told him he needed, something to loosen him up to release some tension. He’d found the perfect solution, Calum was the perfect solution; fit, available, and seemingly up for casual. So why exactly did he feel like this when he wasn’t there this morning, his words of “I don’t do serious” echoing around his head? Why did the empty space in his bed make him feel like there was also an empty space where his stomach should be; like it had dropped out of his body to his feet? And why was he craving the sound of Calum's voice telling him about his life and the sight of his eyes crinkling when he laughs as much as he was craving the feeling of his hands on him?

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Luke doesn’t text Calum. He doesn’t really know why. 

Instead of thinking about it he does the only thing that he knows how to do, throws himself back into dancing with a dogged enthusiasm, ramping up his rehearsing so he’s not just dancing in class, he’s at the studio almost every night too, wearing holes in all his socks and jumping until he can’t feel his toes. 

But something’s not right. He has these moments where for a split second he can’t recall what’s coming next, moments where his feet stumble over a step instead of finding grip on the floor. His pas de deux partners look at him with confusion when Luke fumbles his grip instead of securing them in lifts, and Luke can only shake his head and apologise.

He’s doing a stage rehearsal at the Opera house one day and he’s having one of the worst days of rehearsal he thinks he’s ever had. The choreographer and other dancers are looking at him in confusion as he repeatedly misses his marks and arm positions; he nearly drops Ellen and then misses his final grand jete, completely, before mercifully the director calls for a lunch break. One of the trainers he's known the longest comes over to speak to him, to check he’s okay, and his words are kind but they just make him feel worse as he can feel his chances of being promoted slip through his fumbling and increasingly inept grasp. He brushes the concerns off, saying that he’s just not feeling a hundred percent and he’s sure he’ll be back to normal in no time, before going to hide in the bathroom for a bit. 

Michael comes to find him as he was teching the rehearsal and watched him basically run away from the stage. Considering he lives with Michael, he hasn’t spoken to him properly in days, Michael often choosing to stay at Ashton’s, and Luke slipping out to rehearse every time Michael is in for the evening. He’s not avoiding Michael per se, but he’s trying to delay the inevitable conversation they’ll have. Which Luke knows is about to happen, at what is probably the worst time, as his hands drip with water in one of the men’s bathrooms in the Royal Opera House.

Why haven’t you spoken to Calum?” Michael asks as Luke eyes him warily, pulling some hand towels out of the dispenser. 

“I thought you said you weren’t going to gossip about me,” Luke says defensively.

“I’m not, I have just actually witnessed Calum checking his phone as often as you do every time I’m at Ashton’s,” Michael says. “I thought from the way you’ve been acting he ghosted you, but then I find out that it's you who’s been radio silent.”

“He hasn’t texted me either,” Luke says, drying his hands.

“Jesus Christ, not this again. Luke, I don’t know if you’re familiar with this but if someone sends you a message it's customary that you respond before they send another,” Michael says, rolling his eyes. “What’s the issue anyway? Was the sex bad?”

“No,” Luke says, turning red. “The opposite of that,” He adds with a mumble.

“Oi oi.” Michael grins at him. “Then why aren’t you seeing him again?”

“We’re not seeing each other,” Luke says. “He told me he doesn’t do serious.” 

“Okay,” Michael says, unfazed. He pauses. “So why aren’t you sleeping with him again?”

Luke shrugs.

“Do you want to be with him? Or do you just want to fuck him?“ Michael asks. “ You clearly want something with him so what exactly are you after here, Luke?”

Luke shrugs again, he wishes he knew.

“Fucking hell,” Michael groans. “What is your problem?” 

Luke struggles for a second before he basically explodes. “You saw that out there, I’m not getting principal if I carry on like that! I never forget steps, ever! Promotions are only a couple of months away, I literally do not have the capacity for any more distractions,” Luke says, thoughts spilling out frenzied, pulling his hands through his hair and re-tying his tiny bun. “I shouldn’t want anything with him!”

Michael looks at him, considering. “Luke I hate to tell you this but have you thought that maybe the reason that you’re struggling is because you’re thinking about Calum so much?”

“Exactly! It was a bad idea to get involved! I knew that!” Luke says, gesturing wildly.

“Have you considered that actually not seeing or speaking to Calum is making it worse?” Michael says with a small smile, raising his eyebrows. 

Luke groans. “I can’t, Mikey.”

“Think about it,” Michael says. “Calum doesn't have to be a distraction, he can be a support.”

"We're not going to be together, Michael," Luke says frowning.

“An outlet, a hobby then, I don’t know,” Michael says. He puts his hand on Luke’s shoulder. “Or maybe something more? I know Calum wants to see you again.”

Luke huffs and continues to frown. “No, he doesn’t. And he definitely doesn’t now.” 

Michael looks at him disbelievingly before shaking his head after a moment. “I’ve got to get back to the booth,” He says. “Try not to have a breakdown without me.”

“I’ll work on that,” Luke says sarcastically. “Breakdowns only when Michael Clifford is present. Got it.” 

Michael pauses for a moment before roughly pulling Luke into a hug. Luke is taller and broader than Michael but he sags in the other man’s arms, tiredness seeping out of every limb, tucking his head into Michael’s neck as Michael’s arms grasp around his shoulders.

“It’s going to be fine, Luke,” Michael murmurs into Luke’s hair. “You’re amazing and talented and wonderful and everything is going to work out.”

Luke blinks back tears, almost brought to some emotion for the first time he can remember in several years.

“Thanks, Mikey,” Luke says into Michael’s neck. Michael pulls away to look at Luke calculatingly.

“But only if you deal with your feelings in a more productive way than just dancing yourself into the ground. Pull your head out of your ridiculously good arse and actually do something about them,” He says turning on his heel and leaving Luke in the bathroom. 

Luke can’t work out if he’s been given a loving pep-talk or been aggressively called-out, a confusion he often gets from talking to Michael, but he sighs and pulls out his phone.

**Pretty Boy Luke**

_ so you probably don’t want to hear from me, but can I think we should talk _

_ can I see you later? _

Luke immediately switches his phone to airplane mode and goes back to rehearsal, which goes marginally better than the morning, at least he doesn’t forget any steps this time. When they finish, Luke takes a deep breath before turning his airplane mode off, and a couple of texts appear from Calum.

**Criminal Calum**

_ Working till 10 _

_ You can meet me at the pub after my shift _

They’re short and Luke can’t decipher the tone as anything other than annoyed, but Luke knows he probably deserves it. He shoves his phone in the pocket of his hoodie and heads out the stage door of the opera house, trying to work out exactly how he was going to tell Calum what he wants, when Luke himself has no clue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come chat to me on [tumblr](kaleidoscopeminds.tumblr.com)


	6. more than just good friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He hooks his fingers into Calum's belt loops and pulls him against his body before kissing him heavily. Calum responds immediately, sucking Luke's lip between his teeth and wrapping his arms around Luke's shoulders before he pauses, pulling his mouth away from Luke and looking at him. 
> 
> “What are we doing?” He asks Luke, eyes staring into his. 
> 
> “I don’t know,” Luke says, trying to catch Calum’s lips back on his own.
> 
> “Nah, sorry, I’m not having that,” Calum says, staying with his arms wrapped around Luke but turning his head away from his mouth. “I’m not sleeping with you until you decide what you want.”
> 
> Luke huffs and tries to clear his head. He’d really rather be kissing Calum than delving into his desires.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oi oiiiii. I'm nearly late but actually not!! Here we go chapter 6!!!! We also now have a definite number of chapters so 2 more to go. Thanks to everyone's sweet words about this fic, it truly fuels me, in particular my cheerleaders peyton, mandie and san, you have my heart<3 I am so ridiculously tired I have no more words so enjoy!

Luke gets to the pub a bit before ten, dithers outside the door and then dithers inside the door, not sure what he’s supposed to do. He sees Calum at the bar and catches his eye before he can run away again, Calum just raises his eyebrows at him and Luke gives him a small wave. Calum shakes his head and holds up five fingers. Luke nods and leans against the wall by the door, trying to be inconspicuous, and pulls out his phone for something to do with his hands. He can’t help watching Calum though, seeing him again just sends all the same feelings of confusion running through him but also he can’t help but look as Calum pulls the last few pints of his shift, smirking at customers and chatting with Ashton. He remembers the first time he was in here, when he decided to get involved with Calum was a terrible idea, and wonders how exactly he got to this point, gazing longingly at him. 

A few minutes later and Calum disappears into the back, returning a couple of minutes later with his jacket on. He waves at Ashton briefly, and Ashton’s eyes flick to Luke, raising his eyebrows significantly. Calum just shakes his head slightly before continuing towards Luke. Luke doesn’t understand the interaction he’s just witnessed, but is under no illusion that it’s about him. 

“Shall we talk outside?” Calum says as he approaches Luke.

“Yeah, okay,” Luke says and he sounds breathless to his own ears which is stupid. He clears his throat a little, and Calum throws him a knowing look over his shoulder as he pushes the door open to the pub.

Thankfully, it's a little warmer than the last time he stood outside a pub with Calum, but his proximity to the other man still makes him feel like he wants to shiver. Calum turns to look at him and Luke shuffles his feet slightly, tucking a piece of hair behind his ear and wondering where to start. Calum stands in the silence for an achingly long minute before taking pity on him.

“Well I was fairly surprised to hear from you again after the last two weeks,” Calum says.

“I’m— sorry?” Luke says hesitantly.

“Are you?” Clum says cooly, folding his arms. He looks ridiculously intimidating, arms folded in his leather jacket, leaning against the wall of the pub, with an unimpressed look directed at Luke. Luke hates how that just makes him want him even more.

“Yes,” Luke says in a small voice. “I’m sorry for not replying to your message.”

“I thought the first time I was rejected,” Calum says lightly. “But being ghosted after sleeping with someone, that really sends a message.”

Luke winces. “I was confused.”

“I think I’ve had enough of being caught in your confusion,” Calum says dryly. 

Luke feels a sense of panic at Calum not wanting to see him anymore, a completely unreasonable reaction considering he's been the one ignoring him for the past two weeks. He decides then and there that he won't be able to walk away again, that he doesn't want to. He hooks his fingers into Calum's belt loops and pulls him against his body before kissing him heavily. Calum responds immediately, sucking Luke's lip between his teeth and wrapping his arms around Luke's shoulders before he pauses, pulling his mouth away from Luke and looking at him. 

“What are we doing?” He asks Luke, eyes staring into his. 

“I don’t know,” Luke says, trying to catch Calum’s lips back on his own.

“Nah, sorry, I’m not having that,” Calum says, staying with his arms wrapped around Luke but turning his head away from his mouth. “I’m not sleeping with you until you decide what you want.”

Luke huffs and tries to clear his head. He’d really rather be kissing Calum than delving into his desires, and so instead of responding, he slides his hands up Calum’s arms to let one hand scratch through the hair on the back of his head, whilst dropping his head to mouth across his collarbone.

“Fuck sake, Luke,” Calum groans. “You’re a fucking nightmare.”

Luke looks up at Calum for a second and sees his eyes glinting at him. He smirks and goes back in for another kiss.

“You always get your way don’t you,” Calum murmurs into his mouth.

Luke just laughs and starts tugging Calum towards the tube station.

  
⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

This time, when Luke wakes up, he’s blissfully hangover-free, and there’s still someone in his bed. The light that dapples through the gap in his blind is golden rather than grey, and Calum is pressed along the back of him, a tattooed arm slung over his waist and his warmth everywhere that Luke can touch. He feels him nuzzle into the back of Luke’s neck as Luke’s alarm goes off, tightening his arm when Luke tries to wriggle free to grab his phone off his bedside table.

“No,” he mumbles into Luke’s skin. “No moving yet.”

“How much of 'Dance of The Sugar Plum Fairy' can you listen to then?” Luke asks, voice rough with disuse. 

There’s a few seconds, enough for the song to get going, before Calum releases Luke enough so he can pull himself away slightly to turn his alarm off. He turns back to Calum, hesitating slightly, not sure if he should just get up.

“Where have you gone?” Calum says groggily, his eyes still closed. “Come back.” 

Luke smiles despite himself and snuggles himself back into Calum’s arms. He faces him so he can tuck his face into Calum’s neck and rest his hands on his bare chest, as Calum’s arms come back around him.

“Is your alarm tone genuinely 'Dance of The Sugar Plum Fairy'?” Calum murmurs into the top of Luke’s head. “You’re a terrible cliche.”

“It’s soothing,” Luke says defensively. “It reminds me of being a kid in ballet lessons, I like to be roused awake gently.” 

“You’re such a Princess,” Calum says, pulling Luke even closer. “Tchaikovsky’s got so many better bangers.”

“Yeah, not for waking up to, though,” Luke says stubbornly. “And I feel like it's disrespectful to call Tchaikovsky's compositions ‘bangers’.”

I feel like he’d appreciate that I’m calling them what they are,” Calum says, his hand coming up to play with Luke’s hair.

“You’re cuddly in the mornings,” Luke comments.

Calum pulls back a few inches and cracks an eye open to look at Luke. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, last time you— weren’t,” Luke finishes lamely, dropping his head back to Calum’s chest and nosing along the numerals tattooed on his collarbone. 

“I said I had somewhere to be!” Calum protests. “That wasn’t a lie. It was you that decided you were going to drop off the face of the planet.” 

Luke hums noncommittally and pushes his face further into Calum’s skin. 

“And on that topic,” Calum says. “We’re gonna talk about this. You won’t be able to distract me again.”

“Won’t I?” Luke pulls back to give Calum a small grin. 

“Probably,” Calum says, rolling his eyes. He pauses, looking at Luke calculatingly, before pulling him into his arms again, dropping his chin on top of Luke’s wayward curls. “This isn't a trick question you know? What are you after, Pretty Boy? You gotta tell me what you want.”

At that moment, in the circle of Calum’s arms, skin pressed against him and his scent filling his nose, Luke wants everything. He thinks he might want to stay here forever, to keep Calum forever. But the thoughts of the conversation from the tube come echoing around Luke’s brain, how quickly Calum agreed to something casual, how he literally told him he didn’t do serious. That along with looming promotions weighs heavy on his mind.

“Uh, I can’t really do committed right now— with the whole dance thing,” He says into Calum’s chest, feeling nausea swell in his stomach at the words coming out his mouth. There’s a pause, but Luke doesn’t know what else to say to fill the silence. 

“So, some fun then?” Calum says after a moment, and Luke can hear his voice rumble in his chest, where it’s pressed against the side of Luke’s face. “Or are you going to decide you never want to see me again?”

Luke scoffs and pulls back to look at Calum, who’s looking at him with a wry smile, but a slight hint of something else in his eyes.

“Some fun,” Luke agrees. “And no, I think I might hang around this time.” Luke knows he won’t be able to stay away from Calum again, so pretending to keep him at arm's length is the best he can do for now. 

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

They fall into a strange dance, carefully balanced on a tightrope, not quite together but not just friends with benefits either. The only reason they’re not falling one way or the other is because of the tight clutch they have on each other.

It’s casual. A casual thing. They don’t go on dates. They don’t go for dinner or to the cinema or to art galleries or museums. They spend most of their time in each others’ flats, sleeping or sleeping with each other, their conflicting schedules meaning they spend most of their time together in the dark. Luke tries not to think too much about what that might symbolise.

It's also the least casual _thing_ Luke’s ever had, which he rapidly realises about three weeks into their new arrangement, when it's already too late to do anything about it (not that he really wants to). Calum starts leaving spare shirts at Luke’s so he can have something clean to put on after he crashes at Luke’s after a shift, and Luke makes a space in a drawer for them so they stop getting mixed up with his stuff. Calum buys a bottle of Luke’s shampoo to keep in their shower as he complains that Luke using his own means he’s going through it too fast. Luke will leave in the morning and come back to his flat later that afternoon to find Calum has made him something to eat and left it in the fridge for him before he’s gone to work. Luke spends evenings at Calum’s cleaning his kitchen for him. And even despite the lack of dates, Calum steadfastly goes back to his tradition of greeting Luke with a tea outside the Poetry cafe every morning that Luke has morning class, often with a lewd comment about Luke’s body and a glint in his eyes. 

Strangest of all, a couple of times, Luke and Michael have found themselves watching tv on the sofa but in Calum and Ashton’s flat rather than their own, Michael basically living there at this point and Luke sometimes choosing to stay for the evening even when Calum is working. He says it's because he can’t be bothered to trek back home once he’s already there, but secretly he thinks it might just be because he likes sleeping in Calum’s bed. Or rather he likes sleeping with Calum. He likes being roused from sleep for just a second to feel Calum slipping in behind him when he gets back late from the pub. He likes Calum winding an arm around his waist and pulling him back against the warmth of his chest, Luke feigning sleep and nuzzling his head back into him. Bottom line is; he likes Calum. A hell of a lot more than he knows he should.

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

“You’re digging yourself a hole you know,” Michael says conversationally, one day when they’re having lunch together at the Opera House.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Luke says.

“You should have told him you liked him when you had the chance,” Michael says with a serious look over his sandwich. “This is only going to end badly if you don’t.”

“I don’t _like_ him like him,” Luke says stubbornly.

“You’re fucking joking right?” Michael asks incredulously. “Who’s in our flat right now?”

“No one,” Luke says moodily.

“That’s a lie,” Michael says laughing. 

“No it's not, his shift started at twelve today,” Luke mumbles, poking at his salad. 

“Who made you that salad yesterday for you to take this morning?” Michael asks with a smirk.

Luke frowns at him.

“Whose boots live in our hallway on an almost permanent basis?” Michael continues, ignoring Luke’s lack of response. 

“It’s just—” Luke starts. “Convenient.”

Michael snorts. “That’s one way to put it.”

“I can’t be in a relationship right now,” Luke says, resolutely shovelling a forkful of feta and avocado into his mouth.

“You keep saying that, Luke,” Michael says tiredly. “But you basically are.” 

“He doesn’t do serious,” Luke says, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice. 

“I feel like you’ve really latched onto that for no reason.”

“Just. Don’t,” Luke says.

“Well whatever the two of you are doing it's really helping your dancing,” Michael says, waggling his eyebrows.

“Fuck off,” Luke says, focussing back on his salad.

“I’m serious, you’re incredible out there,” Michael says. “Not that you’re not always.”

“Thanks,” Luke says quietly, reluctantly smiling around a mouthful.

“I don’t wanna bring it up, but you’re also incredibly relaxed,” Michael says thoughtfully. “Despite you know, promotion time of year.”

“Don’t mention the P-word please,” Luke says warningly.

“All I’m saying is Calum must be really relaxing you,” Michael says wiggling his eyebrows.

“Please stop talking,” Luke says, frowning.

“He must have a magical dick,” Michael continues solemnly. “Spunk full of ballet skill.” 

Luke chokes on the piece of spinach in his mouth and nearly coughs up half his meal before he can calm himself down.

“I hate you so fucking much,” He says, throwing Michael the dirtiest glare he can muster whilst Michael cries with laughter opposite him.

Luke really doesn't want to credit his resurgence of ballet skill to Calum (or to his dick) so he won't, but it's undeniable that something has changed. Maybe if he can attribute it to the lunches Calum makes for him, or the teas he provides him with almost daily, rather than the man himself he could deal with it a bit more easily, but the fact of the matter is that he’s now right on the top of his game. Back where he should be, and thank fuck, because the decision about promotions is happening now, the feeling palpable amongst the company. Their trainers are watching them with a closer eye than ever, and he knows the feeling, he’s had it every year for the past four, the feeling that everything you’re doing is being watched intently, that every wrong move is being catalogued in a file of your failures. The dancers of the Royal Ballet might have to like pain, but they also have to like criticism, accept the idea that everything they do is being scrutinised for a mistake. That you’re never appreciated for your success, only marked down by your failures. 

Luke deals with this better than most, but definitely better than he normally does, which he didn’t really need Michael to point out. Normally promotions send Luke over the edge, but he feels surprisingly zen about this one, despite it being the most important one yet. He doesn’t want to say Michael is right, but having Calum in his life had seemingly turned out to be a support rather than a distraction. 

That being said, the afternoon rehearsal is particularly tough. Everyone knows they’re being watched, there’s an inordinate amount of Royal Ballet staff in the theatre for a mock rehearsal of Act Two of _Swan Lake_. Luke is asked to do Siegfried in the _pas de deux_ three times over with different partners, he’d like to think that’s a good thing but he’s learnt plenty of times to not assume that this means he’s being considered for anything in particular. It could equally mean that they’re looking for someone to be a constant whilst they evaluate the girls. Either way, it's a physically and emotionally intense passage of dance. It's not difficult in complexity for the man, but it's extremely physically demanding, having to lift the girls over his head multiple times over and walking around the stage with them as if they weigh nothing. The whole point of being a man in a _pas de deux_ is to make the girl look good, effortlessly floating, which surprisingly takes a whole lot of effort, and Luke knows he has to put in his all every time with everyone watching so intently.

Luke gets back that night physically drained. He shuffles through the door to see lights on and music playing from the kitchen, which makes him frown slightly in confusion. He knows it's not Michael as he’d left to go to Ashton’s as soon as they’d left the theatre. Then he hears a voice singing, smooth over the top of the Oasis song playing out his speaker and a smile comes to his face without even thinking.

He almost stumbles into the kitchen after dropping his bag and leans up against the doorframe for a moment. He watches Calum’s broad back move in the lights of the kitchen, singing to himself as he stirs a pan on the stove, wearing one of Luke’s hoodies and a pair of his socks and singing softly to himself. His heart aches at the domesticity of Calum moving around his kitchen as if he lives there. It feels like everything Luke wants is right there for him to take, but also just slightly out of his reach, even with his fingers stretched. 

“You’re quite good at singing, ever thought about taking it up professionally?” Luke says teasingly to announce his arrival.

Calum starts slightly, before turning around to look at Luke with a broad smile on his face.

“Maybe I should consider it,” Calum says with a laugh. 

“What are you still doing here?” Luke says, wandering closer and hopping up onto the counter next to the sink.

“Day off,” Calum says, coming over and standing between Luke’s legs. “Couldn’t be arsed to leave.”

“What have you been doing all day?” Luke asks amusedly, scratching his fingers through Calum’s hair which is growing out slightly.

“Mm,” Calum says, leaning into Luke’s hand. “Writing. My bass was already here so I thought why not?"

"Write anything good?" Luke asks, curling his hands around the back of Calum's neck.

"I'm not sure," Calum says shrugging. "Not sure anything we do is good anymore."

Luke doesn't have anything to say to that, but can't help but press a kiss onto the top of his head.

"How was your day?” Calum asks.

“Long,” Luke groans.

“Then you’ll be glad to know I’ve cooked the Princess some dinner,” Calum says, arms coming around Luke’s waist to pull him into a hug against his body. Luke wraps his legs around Calum and drops his chin on top of his head. "Why don't you go and sit down." 

“I can’t move,” Luke says dramatically. “I’ve spent too long lifting people in the air.”

“I suppose it is your turn then,” Calums says, and Luke’s not sure what he means until Calum scoops him right off the counter, hands underneath his thighs. Luke shrieks and tightens his legs around Calum, winding his arms around his neck, but Calum just laughs and walks him out of the kitchen and down the hall into the living room. Calum gently tosses him onto the sofa and Luke looks up at Calum with a frown.

“What?” Calum says with a glittering grin. “You said you couldn’t move.”

Luke shakes his head at Calum and tries to slow his heart from the rush of adrenaline.

Calum pulls the blanket from the back of the couch and drapes it over Luke, before handing him the remote. 

“Choose a film, Pretty Boy, dinner will be ready in five,” Calum says with a wink and disappears back to the kitchen. Luke smiles to himself and snuggles down, turning on Netflix and sighing to himself. Maybe he did want committed. Maybe he wants committed with Calum. 

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Luke thinks about saying something to him over the next week, but chickens out every time the opportunity presents itself, late at night in bed or sipping cups of tea at the cafe. Luke is sorting out some stuff in Calum’s room one day that week, he’s putting clothes into drawers, trying to shake off the inherent relationship nature of the act, when he opens the drawer in Calum’s bedside table to drop in a spare phone charger he found in a pocket of one of Calum’s jackets. An envelope with an emblem on it catches Luke’s eye and he pauses for a second before curiosity takes over him. He pushes some of the stuff on top to the side and digs out the envelope. It's an A4 envelope and it's heavy like there’s a brochure inside, but what really takes his attention are the words next to the emblem. The University of Sydney. And the postmark, from last month. Luke knows he’s excellent at jumping to conclusions but he can’t help the pit of dread that opens up in his stomach. He puts the envelope back in the drawer, then paces around the room a few times. He sits back down on the bed and opens the drawer again, before closing it and going to the kitchen. He sees Ashton and Michael sitting in the living room together and immediately turns on his heel and goes back into Calum’s room.

He sits on his phone for a bit but his fingers are twitching. He opens the drawer again, sighs, and pulls out the envelope. It’s already been ripped open, and Luke can tell the contents were hastily shoved back inside. He pauses for a second, deciding if he’s actually going to invade Calum’s privacy in this way, but then he’s already got the brochure and letter out of the envelope, as if his hands are working of their own volition. 

_Dear Mr Hood,_

_We are delighted that you have accepted our unconditional offer to study at the University of Sydney, and are looking forward to having you join our vibrant student community! Please see enclosed for a welcome pack and more information regarding your course:_

Bachelor of Music _at the_ Sydney Conservatorium of Music

_We look forward to seeing you in January!_

_Warmest Regards,_

_University of Sydney Admissions_

Luke feels all the blood drain from his face and lets the letter drop from his clammy fingers. He stuffs it back inside the envelope, shoves it back in the drawer and grabs his bag from the corner of the room. He stuffs his feet into his shoes and doesn't even stop to pull on his jacket before leaving the flat, ignoring the querying voices of Ashton and Michael. He’s too scared that if he opens his mouth he’ll vomit.

Casual was going really well. So well. So why did the idea that Calum would be over ten thousand miles away in less than six months time make him feel like someone has stabbed him in the stomach, twisting the knife around until all his feelings bleed out on the floor by his feet?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooooooh and here's the angst as promised!!! come and chat to me on   
> [tumblr.](%E2%80%9Ckaleidoscopeminds.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D)


	7. too bad that you couldn't see

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Calum follows him down the hallway silently and waits for Luke to open the door to his flat with fumbling fingers, stepping inside and heading for the kitchen. Luke winces at the thought of the last time they were in here, Luke’s legs wrapping around Calum’s body and his hands in his hair, Calum swaying to his music whilst Luke dropped kisses onto his head. Luke leans up against the same counter and Calum stays a good distance away, eyeing Luke carefully. The silence stretches between them, in a chasm of empty space and dead air, as if it’s pressing against Luke, keeping him further from Calum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can you believe I am writing this on Sunday morning having already finished the chapter? who do I think I am? so here we go the penultimate chapter!!!! 
> 
> biggest thanks to everyone who shouted at me about the end of the last chapter and who continues to cheer this on; and all the lovely comments I get; em, iba, peyton, em, brooke and sam, you make my heart burst; mandie you have become this fic's biggest cheerleader and I love you for it; and san ily this one's for you, the requested angst is here get your memes ready<3
> 
> For this I can only apologise, for someone who says they don't like to write angst, this got away from me

Luke does the only thing he knows how to when it comes to facing an overwhelming onslaught of emotion; he hides. He retreats, shuts himself away, avoids like the plague. He basically drops off the face of the earth. When it comes to fight or flight, Luke would probably die before he attempts to throw a punch at anyone. He stops texting Calum, stops going round to his, stops going for tea at the cafe and pretends to be out whenever Calum comes around. Luke’s not an idiot (although he might act like it). He knows he can’t do this forever, but at the moment, his brain thinks the best option is just to avoid Calum, like if he pretends he doesn't exist, then neither does the notion that he might leave.

But Luke suffers. Even a few days without Calum feels like a lifetime, it feels like something in his life has been ripped away, like a branch on a tree that he doesn’t notice growing, slowly giving more shelter from the rain, but suddenly its been broken off in a gust of wind and he’s stood in a downpour. His dancing suffers again, but he can only hope that the lack of additional people in classes means the decision on promotions has already been made. When he’s not in class he shuts himself in his room, whirling away the hours staring at the ceiling and thinking about Calum so much it makes him sick, making his stomach roll in uncertainty, hours disappearing like sand through his fingers. 

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Calum doesn’t let him get away with it for long. After over a week of extreme avoidance, Luke comes home to Calum sitting on the steps of his front door. Luke winces at the glowering look on his face, but also can’t stop running his eyes over Calum’s arms in the T-shirt he’s got on, where they’re crossed in front of him. Luke balks as Calum gets up as he spots him.

“If you run away I will just follow,” Calum says, frowning, seeming to anticipate Luke’s knee-jerk flight reaction.

“Uh, hi?” Luke says nervously, shifting his dance bag on his shoulder.

“Shall we go inside?” Calum says evenly. “Or should we have this out on the street?”

Luke sighs and runs his hands through his hair before sidestepping Calum and unlocking his front door. 

Calum follows him down the hallway silently and waits for Luke to open the door to his flat with fumbling fingers, stepping inside and heading for the kitchen. Luke winces at the thought of the last time they were in here, Luke’s legs wrapping around Calum’s body and his hands in his hair, Calum swaying to his music whilst Luke dropped kisses onto his head. Luke leans up against the same counter and Calum stays a good distance away, eyeing Luke carefully. The silence stretches between them, in a chasm of empty space and dead air, as if it’s pressing against Luke, keeping him further from Calum.

“What are you playing at?” Calum says flatly. “There’s something burning behind his eyes, and he’s talking like he’s trying to stay calm, but he’s keeping something pushed down.

“What do you mean?” Luke says quietly.

Calum makes a derisive noise. “Don’t fucking give me that.”

Luke stays quiet, he doesn’t know what to say without saying that he’s dug around Calum’s room, read Calum’s post without permission, and is so scared that he might leave in six months that he decided to avoid him for a whole week.

“You said you weren’t going to do this, Luke,” Calum says, his voice rising slightly. “I can’t fucking cope with you changing your mind all the fucking time.”

“That’s not what this is,” Luke protests.

“Is it not?” Calum says, running his hand through his hair which has grown out even more, blue ends fading and dark roots coming through. "Because you’ve dropped off the face of the planet three times now Luke, and every time I say it’ll be the last time that I get drawn back in by you, but here I fucking am again!” 

Calum pauses to look at Luke again, but Luke can’t say anything, can’t speak. His stomach has dropped somewhere below his feet but the contents of it feels like it's up near his throat. 

“What is it that you _want_?” Calum says frustratedly. “You’re such a head-fuck, you say you don’t want anything serious but you’re in my bed five times a week. You say you want casual but we have movie nights and you tidy my flat when I’m not there. You let me cook for you, let me stay in your flat even when you’re not here. And then when I do think this might be going somewhere you fucking dump me again!”

“What like you’re planning to do at the end of the year anyway?!” Luke bursts out. He can feel his hands shaking and his breath coming faster. 

There’s dead silence and all Luke can hear is the sound of his own breath and the blood rushing in his ears.

“What are you talking about?” Calum asks quietly.

“The letter, Cal!” Luke says, nickname coming out unintentionally. “I saw it.”

“What letter?” Calum says, but there’s an awareness dawning in his eyes. 

“The one that says you’re going back to Sydney in six months!” Luke is close to shouting now, every feeling he’s had in the past two weeks coming up from within him and rushing out his mouth. “The one that says you’re planning to drop everything and fucking leave!” 

“Where did you find that?” Calum asks and Luke can see his fingers flexing.

“When I was tidying your room the other week!” Luke says, past the point of embarrassment that he was going through Calum’s stuff. “I was putting something away and there it fucking was, an acceptance letter from the University of Sydney. Were you ever going to tell me Cal? Or were you just going to fucking string me along as casual until you left?” 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Calum says warningly. “Why did you open my post?”

Luke chooses to ignore that and ploughs on, now he’s started, he can’t seem to stop. He wants to throw all the words he has at Calum, make them hurt him like they’ve been hurting Luke, carving him up from the inside. “Does Ashton know? That you’re going to cut and run? Are you abandoning your band as well? Or is it just me that can be tossed aside once you’re done playing with it?” 

“Luke, stop,” Calum says, taking a step towards Luke.

“No,” Luke says, retreating a step backwards, pressing himself up against the counter. “ _No,_ you let me get so fucking deep Calum! And you had no intention of staying!”

“Have you ever thought that I might have applied before I met you, Luke?” Calum says, voice rising to match Luke’s volume. “Have you ever thought that maybe for months I've known how badly my band is failing, how badly _I’m_ failing? That I might need a plan B? That I couldn't live off being a fucking barman forever and I should go and make something better of myself?”

“But Ashton—” Luke starts.

“Ashton knows we’re not getting anywhere, Luke!” Calum says exasperatedly. “He’s content to stay here, he’s already in line to become a manager at the pub, he does photography for other bands. All I had was this band!”

“I guess for you there’s nothing else worth hanging around for,” Luke says bitterly.

“I told you, I applied before I met you!” Calum looks even angrier now, hands balling into fists. “That the whole time I was waiting on a reply you were fucking me about, saying you didn’t want me then asking me on dates? Ghosting me and then letting me fuck you?”

“So it’s my fault you decided to not tell me you’re planning to leave?” Luke asks incredulously.

“I’m not planning to leave!” Calum shouts. “You made me want to stay!”

Luke shakes his head. “You’re just saying that because you’re in front of me!”

“I was going to stay, Luke,” Calum says, stepping forward again. “And then you decided to drop me again. Just to remind me again that maybe this isn’t what I thought it was.”

“So what, now you’ve decided you are going to leave?” Luke says, feeling like his world is falling away from him, like its slipping fast through his open fingers. 

“What do you _want_ , Luke?” Calum says. “What do you want from me? Do you even want me to stay?” 

“You were planning to leave before me, why should I make any difference?” Luke hears himself say. He knows it’s him that says it, but can’t seem to make the connection to his own voice. “It’s not like we were anything serious.” 

Calum looks like he’s been punched in the gut. He steps back from Luke again and Luke wants to reach out, wants to keep Calum next to him, safe in his grip, but he can only watch as Calum drifts further away.

“Maybe I _should_ leave then,” Calum says softly. 

“Maybe you should,” Luke says. As soon as the words are out his mouth he wishes them back in, but it's too late, they’re already out there. Already dropped from his lips, crashing onto the ground and causing a crater between him and Calum which is opening further with every passing second. Inside his head, Luke is screaming at Calum that he doesn’t mean it, that he wants to be the reason Calum is still in London, that he wants to be with him forever; but his lips are glued shut and the words remain stuck in his throat

Calum laughs humourlessly and shakes his head. “I guess I’ll be off then,” He says harshly. He looks like he wants to say something else, but then deflates. 

Calum pauses for a second as if waiting for Luke to say something, before seeming to think better of it, and turns and leaves the room. Luke hears him leave the flat, the sound of the door banging closed echoing around the room and echoing around his head. Luke feels himself collapse under his own weight in the middle of his living room, limbs folding over themselves as he feels himself crumble away to nothing, along with everything he really wants. 

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

“You fucking told him what?!” Michael bursts into Luke’s room later on that evening as the light is slowly disappearing, turning the room grey.

Luke is curled up in bed underneath the duvet, stewing in his own misery in the dark.

“Don’t,” Luke says, muffled by his own pillow.

Michael wrenches the duvet off the top of Luke and he quickly presses his eyes closed at the sudden light. 

“Don’t give me that,” Michael says. “You speak to Calum for the first time in a week and you end up telling him to move to Australia?”

“That’s not how it went!” Luke whines, turning his head slightly to see Michael looking at him reproachfully. “He was already planning to leave.”

“No, he was planning to stay,” Michael says. “Until you told him to go.”

“You should not know this much about my personal life,” Luke says. 

“Well I had to witness Calum get back,” Michael says. “And I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a man so ripped up.”

Luke groans into his pillow a little.

“Well, that’s until I saw you just now I suppose,” Michael says. He sighs and gets into bed next to Luke. He drags Luke towards him and Luke collapses into him, pressing his face into his neck, breathing shakily.

“What am I going to do with you, you fucking nightmare?” Michael says gently, smoothing a hand over Luke’s head. 

Luke just curls up closer to Michael, holding back his tears, and wishing it was a different hand carding through his hair. 

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

For someone who literally gets paid for moving their feet, Luke’s not sure how he moves through the next week. Everything is a grey blur around him, he knows he’s attending his classes but he’s not sure exactly what he does whilst he’s there. He feels like he doesn’t make any major mistakes, but also knows that the way he’s dancing is very sub-par, especially considering how he was doing not two weeks earlier.

The director calls him into the office, Luke’s not sure if he should be excited or nervous, but he finds it very difficult to have strong emotions about many things at the moment. It could be a discussion about promotions, but it could equally be a talking to about his inconsistency. 

“Luke!” The director smiles at him as Luke shuffles into the office.

“Hi, Mr O’Hare,” Luke manages a small smile at the perpetually joyful director of the Royal Ballet. Everyone expects him to be a stern man, but nothing could be further from the truth. Not that he ever dissuades the rumours about how firm he is, Luke thinks he likes how intimidating he seems. 

“Kevin, please, Luke,” Mr O’Hare says with a grin. “Although I believe I say that every year and it doesn’t seem to have stuck. Take a seat, Luke.”

“Unfortunately not,” Luke smiles reluctantly, sitting in the seat opposite the director. 

“So, Luke, First Soloist this year hm? One of the youngest to ever do it,” He says, folding his hands in front of him. 

“Yes,” Luke says nervously, chewing on his lip.

“You know it usually takes at least a few years to progress from First Soloist to Principal, and some never do,” Mr O’Hare says seriously. “We’re looking for something very special, something very particular, something impossible to describe.

Luke stays quiet, he knows Mr O’Hare isn’t looking for a response. He just waits to see what point he’s going to make. 

“However, in the past few months, you’ve really proved to us that you’ve got what we’re after,” Mr O’Hare continues with a small smile. Luke feels his heart leap in his chest, the first time he’s felt anything in that region for over a week. “So we’re offering you, Luke Hemmings, the position of Principal Dancer of the Royal Ballet.”

“What?” Luke manages to get out.

The Director laughs. 

“Principal, Luke, it’s yours,” He says. “We always knew you were technically incredibly gifted, but you’ve really shown us something else this year.”

“I have?” Luke says, bewildered.

“Yes,” The Director continues. “Many of the choreographers have commented that there’s been something else with you this year, something that seems to fill you up, make you feel everything on a deeper level. Your communication through dance has grown so much in such a short time, it would be criminal for us to not give you this opportunity now. I know you haven’t been feeling well the last week or so, but what you’ve shown us earlier in the year cannot be ignored.”

Luke’s hands are sweating, he’s gripping the arms of the chair so tightly that he feels like he could snap them. Everything he’s ever wanted has just been laid out in front of him, he’s about to become everything he’s wanted and everything he’s worked for as long as he can remember. He just wishes it didn’t feel so completely hollow. 

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

He shuffles through the door later that evening to find Michael blinking at him from the sofa. Michael’s been making an extra effort to be in the flat more the past week, and usually without Ashton. Luke would tell him that he doesn’t need to worry, and doesn’t need to stay there for Luke’s sake, but he can’t bring himself to when he’s so desperate for some comfort. Michael lets him press himself along his side when they watch TV or sink into his arms before sleeping, despite the fact that Michael could well be doing that with someone he actually wants to be with, rather than his sad limpet of a flatmate and best friend. 

“How was your day?” Michael says gently, as Luke throws himself onto the sofa, laying his head in Michael’s lap. 

“Good. I guess,” Luke says into Michael’s thigh.

“Good?” Michael says as he starts playing with Luke’s hair. “Be careful, Luke, don't overexert yourself, that’s the most positive emotion you’ve displayed in days.”

“I’m a Principal Dancer,” Luke says, muffled by Michael’s sweatpant.

Michael’s hands still in his hair.

“You’re what?”

“Principal. I got it.”

“Luke!” Luke is promptly dispatched onto the floor as Michael leaps to his feet. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry, but… Luke!”

Luke looks up from the ground to see Michael leaning in to grip his arm and drag him upright again. He can’t help but smile a little at the joy on Michael’s face. 

“The youngest ever Principal! Only twenty-two!” Michael is bouncing on his toes before pulling Luke into the tightest hug he can ever remember experiencing.

“I’m twenty-three next week,” Luke says, smiling reluctantly into Michael’s shoulder at Michael’s excitement. 

“Did Kevin tell you? What did he say?” Michael drags Luke back onto the sofa with him, still clutching Luke’s arm.

“That they’ve seen something in me this year that shows them I can communicate better,” Luke says, thinking over the words he’s been trying to ignore since they were said to him.

“What does he mean by that?” Michael asks. 

“He said they’ve seen something else in me. Something that fills me up and makes me feel everything on a deeper level,” Luke’s voice breaks as he gets to the end of his sentence. Michael pauses, looking at him softly from behind his glasses.

“Calum.” Is all Michael says, grabbing Luke’s hand. 

"I've only known him six months Mikey, I shouldn't feel like this," Luke says quietly.

"Babe, I don't think you can tell yourself what you should and shouldn't feel," Michael says gently. 

“Maybe I was wrong, Mikey,” Luke gets out. “Maybe I should have told him to stay.”

“Jesus Christ, Luke,” Michael says, rolling his eyes. “You think you could have had this epiphany earlier? Rather than the evening he’s flying ten thousand miles away?”

“What?” Luke says, heart stuttering in his chest.

“He’s moving back. Tonight,” Michael says, tipping his head in confusion. “I thought you knew.”

Luke chokes on air. “No. I didn’t. I didn’t know. I need to speak to him. I need to—”

Michael watches him flounder as Luke goes into full panic mode. 

“Call him,” Michael says, firmly. 

“He wouldn’t answer, I know he wouldn’t.” Luke gets up and shifts from foot to foot in the middle of the living room, looking around wildly. 

“His train to Heathrow leaves from Paddington at seven, I think Ashton said?” Michael says, digging his phone out of his pocket.

Luke nods stiffly and grabs his jacket, clumsily stuffing his arms into the sleeves.

“Are you going?” Michael asks, disbelievingly.

“I’ve got to go. I’ve got to try,” Luke says, jamming his feet into his shoes, before turning and basically jogging out of the room.

“Go get him!” Michael shouts from the sofa.

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

The journey to Paddington passes in a blur of blind panic and regret. Luke spends most of the journey tapping his feet, ignoring the glares he’s getting from the late rush-hour passengers. He can’t remember the journey ever taking this long, but it seems to last a lifetime, being held at a ridiculous number of red signals, and sitting in stations far longer than seems necessary. When he gets to Paddington he pushes past everyone, basically jogging up the escalator, cutting in front of people at the barrier with a hurried apology, and running up the steps to the main concourse of the station. 

He spots Calum almost immediately, eyes never not drawn to the other man, hair buzzed short again and the blue gone, now a dark brown that Luke has never seen before. He immediately starts making his way towards Calum, pulled irrevocably towards him.

“Calum!” Luke calls desperately over the sea of people standing in front of the departure board, waiting for the platform number of their trains. “Cal!”

He sees Calum turn his head at Luke’s voice, frowning in confusion at the sight of Luke tripping over himself to get to him. Luke pushes past a family of four and side-steps several suitcases before he finally gets close to him, breathing heavily and trying to slow his heart.

“Luke? Calum says disbelievingly. “What the fuck are you doing here?” 

“Calum,” Luke says again, like it's the most important word in the world, and the only word that can pass his lips. He tries to organise his thoughts, all his energy focussed so intently on getting to Calum that he’s now lost for words. 

“Luke, my train is literally here,” Calum says, glancing up at the board. “I have to go.”

“Don’t go,” Luke says, breathlessly. 

“What?” Calum says incredulously, hand pausing over the handle of his bag. 

“Don’t go,” Luke says desperately. “Don’t go to Sydney.”

“Luke…”

“I know, I’ve fucked up, I’ve been a nightmare and I don’t deserve you staying, but please don’t go.”

“Luke, now is not the time,” Calum says, shaking his head.

“It _is_ the time, Calum,” Luke says, looking at Calum pleadingly. “I found out you were leaving today, I found out an hour ago and all I could think was ‘don’t let him leave, don’t let him leave’.” Luke's words are coming out rushed, tumbling over each other in his desperation to get Calum to listen to him. “Please don’t leave.” 

“You fucking told me to go!” Calum says, pained. “I can’t do this with you now!”

“I want you to stay,” Luke persists, he has to get everything out. “I want you to stay with me, I want you to be with me. I want you to be mine.”

“Fuck, Luke,” Calum scrubs a hand over his face. “Why are you doing this now?”

“Because I realised, Calum,” Luke says. He needs Calum to understand, needs him to hear every thought he’s had that he’s never managed to say. “I realised everything you meant to me, I realised I never danced like I did when I was with you, I was never as comfortable as when you were in my life, my flat never felt so much like home as when you were in it.” 

Calum just blinks at Luke, like he can’t believe the words that are coming out of his mouth. 

“I got Principal Calum,” Luke says. “I got Principal and they said it was because they noticed something in me that they hadn’t seen before. That’s because of you Calum. That’s because you being in my life changed me.” 

An announcement comes floating over their heads whilst Luke gazes at Calum, twisting his hands anxiously.

“ _The 19:14 Heathrow Express is boarding from platform three, please make your way to the platform as this train is ready to leave”_

“Calum, please,” Luke begs.

He looks at Calum, whose eyes are swimming in torment, fingers twitching and a grimace on his face. His hands hover over his bag straps like he can’t decide whether to grab them or not. There’s a long pause where all Luke can do is beg Calum with his eyes, pleading with him to stay in Luke’s life. 

“I’ve got to go,” Calum whispers. “I can’t do this with you.”

Luke feels the ground open up underneath him as he free falls.

“Calum—”

“No, Luke,” Calum says, and Luke hears the crack in his voice, cracking down the centre of him too. “I can’t do this again. I can’t be with you until you change your mind again. I have to go. ” 

He watches Calum pick up his bass and pull it onto his back and grab his holdall. He goes to grab the handle of his suitcase before turning to face Luke, seeming to think for a second. He grabs Luke’s waist with his free hand and pulls him into his body, Luke lets himself be manhandled, stumbling forward into Calum’s grip. Calum presses a hot and desperate kiss to his lips, and all Luke can do is open his mouth to let Calum enter, let Calum take anything he wants from him as he feels like he watches himself from some distance away. After two seconds or maybe a year, Calum rips himself away, breathing heavily and staring at Luke, fire burning in his eyes. 

“Calum,” Luke whimpers, reaching out and grabbing his shirt, twisting the fabric in his desperate grip. 

“I’m sorry, Luke,” Calum says, and Luke can hear his voice shake, just slightly. He grabs his suitcase and turns away, breaking out of Luke’s grip and dragging his suitcase behind him, heading towards the barrier. He doesn’t look back. 

Luke can’t move, he’s rooted to the spot as he watches Calum walk away, taking most of Luke with him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... sorry :* feel free to yell at me on [tumblr](https://kaleidoscopeminds.tumblr.com/)


	8. you missed out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! Here we are! The end! It's been an incredibly fun 8 weeks, I did not know that I was able to write a 34k fic but I have loved every second of this. One last shout out to my cheerleading squad: em, emily, iba, amanda, brooke, sam and peyton; mandie for always hyping me up; san for all your george memes and non-stop love; and the other lovely messages I received after hurting you all last chapter.
> 
> I love you all very much and I am sure I will be back soon with another stupidly self indulgent project.
> 
> P.S. don't be alarmed that there are now 9 chapters, there's a bonus epilogue because my love for these boys wouldn't let me keep the last chapter to word count, but I wanted you all to have it

Luke’s not sure how he makes it home. All he knows is that he gets in the door, gets into his bedroom, ignoring Michael’s questions and collapses on the floor. He doesn’t quite get to his bed before he can’t move anymore, and months of tension, and maybe years of repressed feelings start pouring out of him in shaking gasps. He realises with a start that he’s crying. For the first time since he left home. 

He curls his body in on itself, becoming as small as possible as he tries to get his sobs under control. It's stupid, technically he barely knew Calum and they weren’t even together, but he can’t seem to tell his body that, to stop reacting like the most important thing he’s ever had in his life has just chosen to walk right out of it. 

In his fuzzy peripherals, he thinks he hears Michael talking to him from the other side of his door but he can’t seem to coordinate any of himself to respond. Michael lets himself in, nearly smacking Luke with the door as he’s curled up in front of it.

“Oh, Luke,” Michaels says quietly, quickly sitting down next to Luke, leaning against the closed door and pulling Luke between his legs. Luke continues to cry silently into Michael’s sweatshirt, enveloped by his limbs. 

“What happened?” Michael asks, running his hand soothingly through Luke’s hair. 

Luke tries to respond, but when he opens his mouth all he can do is let out another ugly sob and so he closes it again to try to repress it.

“Did you catch him?” Michael asks, realising he’s not going to get a verbal response out of Luke. Luke nods. 

“Did you tell him everything? Tell him that you wanted him to stay, that you wanted to be with him?” Luke nods again, pressing his teary face further into Michael.

“And he still left?” Luke’s breath hitches and another sob escapes his mouth. 

“Fuck, Luke,” Michael whispers, pulling Luke in tighter. Luke just carries on crying, unable to stem the flow of tears from his eyes dampening Michael’s sweatshirt. He crawls into bed a couple of hours later having cried himself out in Michael’s arms, Michael pulling himself in next to him and letting Luke continue to sniffle into his neck. Luke spends most of the night staring into the darkness of his room and wonders how long it will take for him not to feel like this anymore. 

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

It takes a long time. Luke feels he should probably act less like someone’s died, but he can’t help it, despite his best efforts he’d fallen head over heels for Calum and only realised it when it was too late. 

It’s about a month after the incident, which he’s now referring to it in his head, when he gets called into Mr O’Hare’s office again. Luke shuffles in miserably, almost confident that he’s about to demote him back to First Soloist based on his performance over the past three weeks, probably the poorest by a Principal ever seen by the Royal Ballet. It's not like he doesn't want to be good. It's that he doesn't know how to anymore. Doesn’t know how to make his limbs do what he wants them to. 

“Hello again Luke, please sit down,” Mr O’Hare says gently, with a kind smile at Luke. It doesn’t make Luke feel any better, that’s the smile that someone would give someone before he fires them.

“How are you doing?” He asks kindly.

Luke clears his throat a little, not used to speaking much these days. “Um, fine, thanks.”

Mr O’Hare looks at him and raises his eyebrows a little.

“I think we all know that’s not true, Luke,” He says, not unkindly. "Do you want to tell me what's going on?"

Luke shakes his head. He sort of feels like he's being berated by a kind uncle, but he's not about to tell the Director of the Royal Ballet that he's basically slipped into a depression because he asked someone to be his boyfriend and they said no.

“Well, I’m not going to make you tell me, but unfortunately it is really affecting your dancing," Mr O'Hare says.

“I know,” Luke says in a small voice, fiddling with a loose thread on his sweatpants.

“So it seems we've got two options here,” Mr O’Hare says firmly. “I could make you a First Soloist again to put less pressure on you?"

He pauses and Luke shakes his head vehemently. 

"I didn't think so," He says with a smile. "The other option is I could give you your first Principal role and cast you as the Prince for this year's _Nutcracker_.”

Luke’s head snaps up to look at Mr O’Hare. “What?” He says in disbelief.

“The Prince is yours,” He says with a small smile. “But you have to promise me I’m not going to regret giving it to you.”

Luke gapes at him for a second before pulling himself together. 

“Okay?” He asks, like its a question.

“Is it?” Mr O’Hare folds his hands on the desk in front of him and fixes him with a look. “You tell me, Luke.”

Luke realises he’s being given a chance, one last opportunity to prove that he should be Principal. His heart leaps a little.

“Yes,” Luke says with a little more purpose, and Mr O’Hare gives him a nod.

“Good,” He says. “Go on then, you’ve got a class.”

Luke stands up quickly and heads for the door. 

“And Luke,” Mr O’Hare says before Luke can exit. “I’ve gone against a lot of good people’s opinions on this. Prove them wrong won’t you?”

Luke nods slightly and Mr O’Hare gives him another smile before waving his hand at him to exit the office.

Luke takes a deep breath when he gets out the door. He can't let himself throw this away. 

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

A month later and with rehearsals well underway, Luke is starting to get his mojo back. He’s not quite the dancer he was at the beginning of the year but he’s getting there, he no longer misses any steps and his arms are sure and steady in all of his lifts. He doesn’t stop thinking about Calum, but at least the thought of him doesn’t make him feel like he needs to curl up in a ball for a week anymore. He’s taking a break from blocking one morning in the theatre, when he checks his phone and sees he has five messages from an unknown number, with an international area code he doesn’t recognise. He frowns a little before opening them.

Unknown: 

_Did you know that a male ballet dancer lifts over a ton’s worth of ballerina during one performance?_

_Oh fuck you probably don’t have my Australian number_

_This is Calum by the way_

_Calum Hood. I play bass._

_Fuck_

Luke nearly drops the phone out of his hands. His heart leaps up to somewhere near his throat and he’s scared for a second that he might actually vomit it out of his mouth. His hands start sweating a stupid amount and he starts shaking. He shoves his phone back into his bag and goes back to the stage.

“You feeling okay, Luke?” The choreographer looks at him concernedly, probably because he’s turned a sickly shade of green.

“Yeah I’m fine,” Luke says, running his hands through his hair and re-tying it. “Just got an unexpected text.”

He looks up at the lighting box and he can’t see Michael, but he knows he’s in there, and makes an expressive face to tell him he needs to talk to him at lunch.

“Calum messaged me,” Luke says, throwing himself down next to Michael in the cafe of the theatre.

“What?” Michael drops the crisp that was travelling towards his mouth. 

Luke slides his phone over to Michael and hides his face in his arms on the table.

“Fucking hell,” Michael says with a startled laugh. “Think he’s drunk?”

“Probably,” Luke says, muffled. “Fuck, Mikey, what am I supposed to do with this?”

“Text him back?” Michael ventures.

Luke looks up to fix him with a withering stare. “Absolutely not.” 

“Why not?” Michael asks.

“Mike, I’ve only just become a normal human again, I really do not think it’s a good idea to let myself entertain the thought of Calum again.”

“Fair point,” Michael says, and he reaches out to grab Luke’s hand and hold it tight in his.

“Careful, you’ll start the rumours about the two of us again,” Luke says, but he smiles a little and grips hard.

“Don’t care,” Michael says with a sideways look, resuming his crisp eating with his free hand. “My boyfriend knows I’ve got no interest in lanky ballet dancers so that’s good enough for me.”

Luke shakes his head and smiles, eating his own lunch one-handed, and wonders exactly where he’d be without Michael. 

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

A few days later, Michael broaches the topic of the text again. 

“I think you should text him back,” Michael says.

“What?” Luke looks up from Dance Moms, frowning at Michael.

“Calum,” Michael says, and Luke scoffs, as if he needs to clarify. “I think you should text him back.”

“What good would that do?” Luke says, his stomach already rolling at the thought of it. 

“I feel like you need to,” Michael says. “I’ve been thinking about it, and I feel like you left it in such a terrible way with him you need something else from it.”

“Are you telling me to reply to his stupid fucking ballet fact so that I can get _closure_?” Luke says disbelievingly. 

“Something like that,” Michael says. “I don’t know Luke, I feel like there’s still something there.”

“He’s in Sydney, Michael,” Luke says flatly. “He’s ten thousand miles away, and he chose to be there.”

Michael gives him a calculating look. “Just think about it.”

Luke thinks about it. He says to himself he won’t entertain the thought but it's too late. His phone feels like it's burning a hole in his pocket or like it's going to set fire to his bag during rehearsal.

One night after he himself has had maybe a few more drinks than he should have done he opens Calum’s messages again and looks at them before bed, a habit he can’t seem to break.

Suddenly his fingers are tapping over the screen and he hits send before he can second guess himself. 

Pretty Boy Luke

_Any other fascinating ballet facts for me?_

_And what other Calum would I think it is_

He turns his phone onto do not disturb and squeezes his eyes closed.

He wakes up to another message from Calum and unwillingly saves Calum’s number back into his phone against his old contact. The name makes his heart trip but he can’t help but smile.

Criminal Calum

_Did you know that combined, ballerinas jump 900 feet into the air during performances? That’s as tall as the eiffel tower_

_I don’t know, you might have met some other Australian Calum and forgotten all about me_

Luke exhales shakily and shakes his head, even though he’s on his own in his room. He exits out iMessage and promises himself he won’t reply until he gets home.

He makes it until lunchtime before he finds himself typing out a response, checking the time in Sydney to be confident that Calum will be asleep when he receives it. 

Pretty Boy Luke

_I didn’t know that but I think my legs do sometimes_

_What else you got?_

Luke thinks about his next message but shrugs to himself, he spent so long hiding his feelings from Calum, he may as well be honest now.

_I couldn’t even if I wanted to_

Luke can barely sleep that night, the idea that he might wake up to a text from Calum again making him feel like he’s a kid again waiting for Christmas, and he berates himself for the effect Calum is having on him again.

Criminal Calum

_Did you know the amount of energy needed to perform a ballet is about the same as playing two full footy matches?_

_I’ll be honest reading these facts just makes you even more impressive_

There’s a gap of an hour or so before the next message:

_And me neither_

Luke exhales and puts his head in his hands. He knows what he’s doing is probably ill-advised, he should be working on letting Calum go, not welcoming him back into his life, but the feeling he gets at having a message from him between his hands is a feeling he hasn’t had in months. He wants Calum in his life and he’ll take any way he’s allowed him.

They start texting tentatively, always with huge gaps between replies due to the time difference, and it's a little stilted at first, but soon becomes natural as it always had been between the two of them. They don’t talk about _them_ , but they talk about everything else, Luke tells him about rehearsal and Michael and updates Calum on the Poetry Cafe, Calum tells Luke about his home and his mum. Luke realises somewhere along the way that the Calum shaped hole in his heart is being healed, by the man himself.

October and November come and go and he throws himself back into rehearsal for the Nutcracker with a vengeance, a desire to show everyone that he was the right choice for the prince and the right choice for a Principal running through him. He doesn't want to admit it, but everything feels a bit easier again now Calum is back in his life, even just through the phone that sits in his pocket.

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Soon it's December and its opening night for _The Nutcracker_ run. Luke is vibrating with excitement and nerves, anxious but also feeling like this is his moment. He does a few stretches in the dressing room, picking up his phone and frowning, he’s not heard from Calum since yesterday night, and he was hoping for a good luck message of some sort. He sighs a little at the few good luck messages he’s received, but none from the right person, before shaking his head and refocusing. He needed to push Calum out of his head. He’s got this.

Opening night is a huge success. The ensemble tumble off stage in hugs after their final bow, adrenaline running high and none of them able to stop laughing. They get to the dressing room and quickly change, they’ve got plans to go for some celebratory drinks, and Luke pulls on his jeans and shoves his feet into his boots as quickly as possible. He comes out into the stage door and loops around to the front, weaving around the members of the audience still standing out the front, looking for Michael.

He sees someone else instead. 

“Hi, Pretty Boy.”

Luke thinks he might drop what’s in his hands, but he can’t actually remember what he was holding to begin with. Calum’s standing a few feet away, hands stuffed into his jean pockets and smiling at Luke, although there’s a slightly unsure look in his eyes. His hair has grown out a bit, he’s got it short on the sides but it's curling on the top of his head, and his skin looks more tanned than Luke can ever remember seeing it, but apart from that, he looks exactly the same. His eyes are the same glinting brown, lips just as full and pink, arms just as distracting inside his leather jacket and his voice so achingly familiar but also sounding completely foreign, and it all sends Luke’s brain into a tail-spin. 

“I knew you’d look good in tights, but this really blew me away,” Calum says, a grin coming to his lips.

“What the fuck?” Luke breathes. His feet are taking him towards Calum but he can’t remember telling them to move. “What the fuck?”

He thinks he might jump into Calum’s arms, but he can’t recall telling his body to do that either. All he knows is that suddenly his arms are looped around Calum’s neck and Calum’s arms come up to support him, squeezing him tight to his body and Luke can’t do anything but breathe shakily into his neck.

“Hi there,” Calum murmurs with a small laugh.

“What the _fuck,_ ” Luke says again. He finally comes back to himself and drops to his own feet, stepping away slightly but gripping onto Calum’s wrists. He blushes at the fact he literally just threw himself at Calum, but Calum’s giving him a look that’s sparkling and he can’t bring himself to be embarrassed.

“What are you doing here?” Luke asks.

“I’m watching the ballet,” Calum says, smirk coming back onto his face which makes Luke’s knees feel like they’re going to buckle. “What about you?”

Luke chokes on a laugh. “I’m dancing in the ballet.”

"You're fucking incredible." Calum grins at him, before pulling Luke back into his arms. “I’m back.”

“What?” Luke can’t keep up with what’s happening, so just holds on harder to Calum, so tight, as if he can stop him from leaving again.

“I’m back?” Calum says again. “For good this time.”

Luke can’t think to do anything else, so just grabs Calum by the lapels of his jacket and drags him towards him before pressing his lips against his.

Calum makes a slightly surprised noise underneath his lips but kisses back immediately, hand coming to curl possessively around the back of Luke’s head and nipping at Luke’s lip in a way which is so familiar to Luke that something settles warm and comforting in the centre of his chest. He grips Calum’s jacket white-knuckled and kisses him with everything he has, everything he’s wanted to say to him in the past five months, pushing everything he’s felt through breath into Calum’s mouth and presses against his lips. He’s not sure how long they kiss for but they’re interrupted earlier than Luke would have liked by a loud cough.

Luke pulls his face away from Calum’s to glare at Michael who’s stood hanging off Ashton a couple of feet away.

“Sorry to interrupt but are you coming or what?” Michael asks with a smirk.

Luke flounders for a second, not wanting to let go of Calum, brain running a hundred miles an hour.

“Your opening night drinks right?” Calum murmurs in his ear, arms still around him. “I’ll come too if you want?”

Luke looks disbelievingly at Calum as he chews the inside of his cheek nervously. He wants to talk to Calum, _needs_ to talk to him, but half the ensemble are already standing around looking at him, and they’ve had this planned for weeks.

Luke nods slowly and pulls away from Calum, but only so he can lace his fingers with his.

“Okay, I’m coming,” He says to Michael with a roll of his eyes. “I need to talk to you,” He directs at Calum.

“I know,” Calum says seriously.

“But I have to go to this, so I suppose you’re coming with me,” Luke says, shaking his head a little, unable to wrap his brain around this turn of events.

“I am?” Calum asks, sounding surprised.

“I’ve only just seen you again, you think I’m letting you out of my sight again so soon?” Luke says, the adrenaline making the words tumble out of his mouth unabridged and unedited. But Calum’s face just breaks out in a smile, eyes creasing up in that way that Luke has been dreaming of for months, and Luke pulls him along as they leave the Opera House.

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

“What the fuck,” Luke says, as soon as he’s got a pint in his hand and he’s downed the celebratory tequila Michael bought for him, before giving him a quick hug and leaving him at the bar with Calum and heading with the rest of the group to a booth in the back. He knows he shouldn’t drink too much more than this, he’s got to get on stage again tomorrow, but he can’t help it when he feels like he’s celebrating more than just his opening night as a Principal dancer. 

“I think that’s the only thing you’ve said to me so far,” Calum says, seemingly unable to stop grinning at him as he sips his own beer. 

“Fuck off,” Luke says, reaching over and pinching Calum, and the ease that they’ve fallen back into their old banter makes Luke heart want to burst out of his chest, but he also knows that he’s got to know what’s going on with Calum before he gets his hopes up too high (too late). “Why are you back? What do you mean for good? What’s your plan? What happened to the University of Sydney?”

“Okay, okay,” Calum reaches out to put a hand over Luke’s mouth to stop the questions tumbling out and Luke fixes him with a glare. Calum flashes him another grin and removes his hand, only to grab Luke’s free one, thumb brushing over his knuckles as he starts to explain.

“So you know, I left,” Calum starts, taking an uneasy look at Luke who can’t help but inhale at the reminder of the person he’d become five months ago and Calum grips his hand a little tighter in response. “I confirmed my place at Sydney, I moved back in with my mum and I started planning for a different life. But god, I was so fucked up. I’d forgotten how to function without Ashton being there all the time, I was constantly thinking of ideas for a band I wasn’t even in anymore and I missed London. I missed _you_.”

“You did?” Luke asks quietly, his stomach swimming in anxiety and hope. 

Calum laughs humourlessly. “Fuck I missed you so much. I kept telling myself I’d made the right decision to leave but everything fucking reminded me of you, I couldn’t get through the day without having a breakdown or writing a stupidly emo song about losing someone.” He pauses and shakes his head at himself. Luke just stays quiet, needing to hear it all.

“Anyway, one day I felt like I hit my breaking point. I decided I couldn’t live with not having you in my life. I’d also had several too many beers and my brain told me to text you.”

“It was the stupidest thing I’d ever read,” Luke says. “I was so fucking pissed off that you’d sent me that.”

Calum laughs. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“I wasn’t going to reply,” Luke says shaking his head. “Michael talked me into it.”

“Ashton might have had something to do with that,” Calum says sheepishly. “I had a bit of a meltdown about the whole thing. I kept saying I wished I’d Whatsapped you so I could have deleted the message.” 

Luke laughs despite himself. “I would have replied eventually I think even on my own. I was so desperate to have you in my life.”

“I couldn’t believe you were actually encouraging my fucking stupid messages,” Calum says, shaking his head. “I was desperate to keep you in mine.”

Luke can’t help but smile again, reaching out and brushing his hand over Calum’s shoulder slightly. “But why are you here now?”

“Oh,” Calum says, like he forgot. “We got signed to a label here.”

“What?” Luke says, startled. “Cal!”

“Yeah,” Calum says with a face splitting grin. “Turns out someone was at that show, it just took them a bit of time to convince the label to take a shot on us.”

“That’s amazing!” Luke says honestly, smiling at the obvious joy on Calum’s face. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” Calum says with a grin. “I made Michael swear not to tell.”

“That little fucker,” Luke says, turning around to glare at Michael, Michael and Ashton are watching them intently and the bastard has the audacity to wave at Luke. Luke puts his middle finger up at Michael before turning back to Calum’s smiling face. “So what's the plan now?”

“We’re writing and recording an album here,” Calum says, unable to keep the pride out of his voice. 

“Not planning on leaving again for a while then?” Luke says, and he means for it to come out light and teasing, but even he hears the bitterness seep into his tone.

Calum looks at Luke steadily. “You know why I left.”

“I asked you to stay,” Luke says, and he hates that he can hear his own voice shake as he says it, a reminder of how broken he was. “I wasn’t enough for you to stay.”

“Luke, you have to see it from my point of view,” Calum says. “Every time things got to a place you weren’t familiar or comfortable with or didn’t fit into the idea of what your life should be you vanished on me.”

Luke wants to refute what Calum’s saying but he can’t, he’s spent months knowing that’s exactly what he did.

“I liked you from the start, Luke,” Calum continues. “I know I flirted obnoxiously with you, but that’s because I liked you. As much as a complete head-fuck you are.” 

Luke flushes and looks down at the drink in his hand.

“I liked you too,” He says in a small voice. “And I didn’t know how to deal with that. You told me you didn’t do serious.”

“I only said that because I didn’t think you wanted anything serious,” Calum says exasperatedly. He pauses. “Look, we both said and did things we regret, can we agree on that?”

Luke nods slowly.

“I’m gonna be straight up with you here, no messing,” Calum says seriously, still holding Luke’s hand. “I came back for the band but I mainly came back for you. You said before I left that you wanted to be with me, that you wanted me to be yours. Well, I’m here now, and I want to be yours. Will you have me?”

Luke’s breath catches in his throat.

“Maybe,” He says with a small smile.

“No I’m not having that,” Calum says, a smile slowly spreading over his face. “I need you to say it like you mean it.”

“I want you. I never stopped wanting you. There hasn’t been a moment since I met you that I haven’t wanted you,” Luke says in a rush. “I just didn’t know it myself sometimes and I’m so sorry.”

Calum’s smile is now blinding, and Luke feels like he’s staring directly into the sun, but he can’t close his eyes or look away for a second. 

“And?” Calum asks. 

Luke huffs as he knows Calum’s going to make him say it.

“Do you want to be together?” Luke says. “Like, in a boyfriend type way?”

Calum tips his head back and laughs. “I’d love to be together in a boyfriend type way, Pretty Boy.” 

And with that, Calum puts his drink on the bar, takes Luke’s out of his hand to place it next to his own glass and puts his arms around Luke to pull him closer to him. He gives him another grin that Luke can’t help but return full force, before kissing him again. It’s softer than the first kiss that Luke had pressed on him, and unlike the first which was filled with heartache and desperation, this one is slower and filled with something Luke thinks tastes like a promise. 


	9. this is how the story ends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A tiny christmas gift from me to you all in the form of an epilogue. Enjoy!

_⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒_

_Three weeks later_

Luke wiggles around on top of Calum and lets out a yawn as the TV plays some Christmas film in the background.

“Come on, let's cook some dinner,” Calum murmurs into Luke’s hair.

“No. Comfy,” Luke says into the fabric of Calum’s hoodie, hiding his face and wrapping his arms even tighter around Calum.

“You have to eat. You’ll be even grumpier if you don’t,” Calum says with a laugh, smoothing his hands over Luke’s hair, tucking a rogue curl behind his ear.

“I’m not grumpy,” Luke says, looking up at Calum with a pout.

Calum’s eyes glitter as he slides his hands around the back of Luke’s head and bends his head down to land a kiss on his lips. Luke sighs into it as Calum gently kisses him, tongue swiping along his lower lip.

“You’re such a drama queen,” Calum says, breaking away after a moment. 

“I’m not, I’m just comfy,” Luke says, tucking his face into Calum’s neck.

“How about this,” Calum says. “You let me get up, and I’ll cook you dinner, how’s that?

“No,” Luke says, kissing Calum’s neck. “I’d rather starve.”

Luke feels Calum sigh underneath him.

“Sometimes I think I should have stayed in Australia,” He says,

Luke looks up to throw him a dirty look, seeing a smile dancing around Calum’s lips.

“Right, there’s nothing for it then,” Calum says, and with that he swings his legs off the sofa and stands up, his hands sliding underneath Luke to haul him up with him. Luke squeaks and struggles for a second, but his arms are already secured around Calum and Calum’s already off, setting a quick pace to the kitchen, despite having his arms full of a six-foot-four professional ballerina. 

“Cal,” Luke protests.

Calum unceremoniously dumps him on the counter next to the sink, the counter that Luke always sits on when Calum cooks, and Luke gets his bearings enough to keep his limbs wrapped around Calum, interlocking his heels and holding onto his hands to keep him in position.

“Alright,” Calum laughs. “That’s enough koala-ing from you. Let me go or I’ll put mushrooms in the pasta sauce.”

Luke reluctantly unwraps his arms from Calum. 

“Not fair,” Luke says, and Calum just blows him a kiss.

He watches Calum as he moves about the kitchen, and just takes a moment to appreciate that this is now his life, Calum in his space, a part of his space. The thought of it will never fail to make him feel warm and glowing, tingles of happiness spilling from his heart down to his fingers and toes. Calum turns the speaker on and connects his phone and Luke smiles, as much as he complains, it's often his favourite part of his day, when he gets to watch Calum cook. He gets to do so on his alternate days when he’s not on stage, and he thinks that it might be one of the only things that keep him sane during this run.

Calum puts a Christmas playlist on and Luke rolls his eyes.

“Stop that, it’s festive!” Calum says, brandishing a knife at Luke. “It’s only a couple of days till Christmas.” 

“All I do is be festive,” Luke says. “I’m literally the Nutcracker. I dance with presents and snowflakes every day.”

“Well I’m still trying to get into the spirit,” Calum says, now waving a carrot at Luke. “So shut up, Scrooge.”

Luke mimes zipping his lips, but can’t help but laugh as Calum does his ridiculous Michael Buble impression into a vegetable peeler. He watches Calum dice up the onions and carrots and slides them into a pan before coming over to Luke and opening the cupboard next to his head to find some tins of chopped tomatoes. Luke kisses him for each thing he pulls out of the cupboard, giggling as Calum tries to feel his way around without breaking his face away from Luke. They both end up laughing too much to be able to kiss properly, just pressing their smiling mouths uselessly against each other and Calum finally pulls away to stop the onions from burning.

“Have you stopped being grumpy now?” Calum asks Luke as he stirs some garlic and spices into the vegetables and puts the kettle on to boil for the pasta.

Luke just kicks out his leg at Calum as he comes over to the sink and Calum grabs his foot before he can pull it back, holding it in one of his hands.

“Not the feet!” Luke complains.

“Stop being arsey or I’ll do some serious damage,” Calum says threateningly, his eyes glimmering with amusement.

“Fine, fine,” Luke laughs. But only because you’re literally threatening my livelihood, how am I supposed to provide for us if you fuck up my feet?”

“I’m about to be in a really successful band,” Calum replies, letting Luke’s foot go and turning on the tap to wash his hands. “ I’m definitely going to be the breadwinner in this relationship.”

Luke scoffs and shakes his head.

‘Baby, It’s Cold Outside’ comes on the playlist and Calum raises his eyebrows delightedly at Luke, wiggling them. Luke sighs.

“I’m not singing with you, Calum,” Luke says, but he’s already smiling.

“Yes you are,” Calum says, adding the cans of tomatoes to the pan. “Duet with me, come on. You know you love it.”

Luke sighs again but dutifully sings, he takes what is traditionally the man’s part as Calum flutters his eyelashes at Luke and sings the other part in a falsetto that he’s probably trying to make sound stupid, but his voice is too good for anything to sound bad coming out his mouth. They finish with a flourish, Luke swinging his feet and Calum waving a spatula in one hand and doing a ridiculous jazz hand with the other.

'Silent Night' shuffles on next and Calum smiles as he pours pasta into the pot of boiling water and salts it. Luke slides off the counter and comes up behind Calum, sliding his hands around his waist and resting his chin onto Calum’s shoulder. He starts swaying to the music slightly as Calum stirs. 

“Dance with me,” Luke murmurs into Calum’s ear, grazing his teeth over his earlobe before dropping a kiss onto the soft skin just below it. He feels Calum shiver slightly and smiles into the skin of his neck.

“I can’t dance,” Calum protests, laughing slightly, and Luke can feel the rumble of it from where his chest is pressed against Calum’s back.

“That’s a lie, I know you can,” Luke says, slipping a hand up the front of Calum’s shirt and brushing his fingers over his stomach and continuing to kiss the side of his neck. “I just sang with you, so now you can dance with me.”

“You don’t play fair,” Calum huffs, but he turns in Luke’s grasp so he’s facing him and quickly kisses his nose. 

“Don’t worry, love, I’ll lead,” Luke says with a delighted smile, and pulls Calum into his body, tugging him away from the stove slightly. He arranges Calum’s arms where they should go, squeaking slightly when Calum moves his hand from resting on Luke’s shoulder to squeeze his bum. Calum just blinks innocently at him as Luke rearranges his arms with a reproachful look.

“I know you can waltz a little,” Luke says with a smile. “Left foot back, then to the side, then close with the other.”

Luke uses his own socked feet to nudge Calum’s to direct him, and Luke leads them in a slow waltz around the small space in the kitchen, Calum’s feet slightly unsure, but being steered by Luke. After a while it turns into just side-stepping on the spot, Luke’s head resting in the crook of Calum’s neck, one of Calum’s hands playing with Luke’s hair and the other gripping his shoulder, as Luke’s arms wrap around Calum’s waist. 

Luke inhales the scent of Calum as he moves with him in the soft light of the kitchen; the steam from the pasta fogging up the window and the cool tile under his feet, and thinks that maybe even as a Principal ballerina of the Royal Ballet, swaying here in the kitchen with Calum might just be the best dancing he’s ever done.

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please come and chat to me on [tumblr](https://kaleidoscopeminds.tumblr.com/)


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